


Prism

by Carolyn_Spencer



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25365271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carolyn_Spencer/pseuds/Carolyn_Spencer
Summary: This is my Spock-as-an-Amish-dude story.
Relationships: AU James T. Kirk/AU Spock
Kudos: 27





	Prism

"You working tonight, Jim?"

I knew Ephram didn’t mean the question the way it sounded. During the course of our three month business relationship, I’d learned to read between the lines. It was just an opening conversational gambit. Just a polite way of saying, ‘Should I send the first one over?’ The Saurian brandy I’d ordered, my third, landed by my elbow, and I smiled up into the familiar lined face.

"No, I don’t think so, Ephram. I’m tired. Think I'll take the night off. Annie’ll pick up the slack."

He looked sharply at the skin-tight, gold jumpsuit I wore. My working clothes. His jaw fell, realizing he wasn’t going to get his ten per cent referral fee. Not tonight. And a Saturday night, too. Shit Kart City was going to be crawling with randy dilithium miners eager to be parted from a week’s pay in about fifteen minutes and poor Ephram was looking at the loss of a couple hundred credits.

He was breaking my heart.

"Annie don’t do the business you do." He masked his disappointment in a cursory swipe of the table with a rag, watery aqua eyes following the motion of his hand with all the concentration most men give a beautiful woman. "Didn’t think whores took nights off."

I waited until my silence forced his eyes to meet mine. Then I sat back, took a lazy swallow of the blue rotgut that passed for good Saurian in this hellhole, and allowed my smile to flower into a grin. "This one does."

Something tightened minutely in the saggy jowls. "I’ll have to charge you for the drinks then," he said.

Why wasn’t I surprised. I figured he still had the first credit he ever stole hidden away somewhere. "A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do, Ephram." I waved my hand expansively. "Put it on my tab."

Just then about a dozen miners spilled into the place, red dust dropping from their clothes like rain during a storm. Fucking Load Mine, as in ‘What a fucking load of dilithium!’ must have closed early. Their loud calls for booze mingled with cheerful obscenities as they headed for the bar. Ephram threw me a last despairing glance as he scuttled off to protect his property. The old man sure could move fast when he had to.

Another Saturday night in Shit Kart City had arrived.

By the dark moons of Korin, I was sick of the place. I took another hefty swallow of my drink, grimacing as the bitter liquid scorched its way down my throat, and took comfort from the fact that in another few days I’d have the credits to finish paying for the repairs on the ship and could watch Vulcan eat anti-matter dust in my rear viewscreen. I might have made enough for the last payment added to what I’ve got hidden upstairs in my room if I’d wanted to work tonight. I’d come downstairs ready to get laid. Dressed to get laid. As Ephram so eloquently, if silently, pointed out when he looked at my clothes. For some reason I just didn’t feel like it.

It wasn’t as if another day or two, or even another week would really matter though. I’d already spent three months on this sorry excuse for a planet, but it takes a lot of tricks and a lot of credits to repair a spaceship damaged in one hell of an ion storm, especially one as small and old as mine. I sipped my drink as I thought about it. I’d been lucky to make planetfall as it was. Lucky the ship wasn’t totally destroyed by the emergency landing. Lucky I walked away. Lucky I was still young and pretty enough to make easy money with my ass raised in the air.

So why had I turned down a night’s work? Maybe it was the vague dissatisfaction I seemed to be feeling more and more often lately.

It wasn’t as if the sex bothered me. I’d done it before when I’d needed the money and plenty of times when I didn’t. I liked sex. I’d always liked sex. Men. Women. Didn’t matter much. Orifices in slightly different places, but as they say, a hole by any other name….

I lifted my glass for another swallow only to find it empty. Ephram must be watering the booze again. Either that or I was more tired than I’d realized.

The vid-screen was blaring something about the weather when I lifted my head and tried to catch Ephram’s eye. I knew he wouldn’t hear me over the din. As usual when the bar was full, he was trying to watch everything and everyone at once. Life would have been easier if he weren’t too cheap to hire more help. On his third go-round I managed to attract his attention. Waved my empty glass in the air. He gave a distracted nod in my direction, then headed for the bar as a new group of rowdy miners poured in the door.

When I looked back at the vid-screen, they were showing the plet-go match on Andor. Shalaz was just about to score when my vision was obscured by a meaty hand holding a full bottle of Saurian, and I looked up at an eager, red-cheeked Earther with mine dust still on his face, and an admiring, hungry look in his eyes. "Hi, good-looking. My name's Dan. Mind if I sit down?" he asked, obviously thinking the question rhetorical since he was already pulling over a chair from a neighboring table.

It pissed me off.

I shot my foot out to keep the chair from coming any closer and glared behind the bar in Ephram’s direction. The old man met my look, gave me the hand signal that said the guy was loaded and smiled encouragingly.

I flexed my hip just to feel the comforting bulk of the phaser pressed against the small of my back and rose slowly. There was no way to tell when a refusal would turn into a confrontation, and even though I was never a boy scout I had adopted their motto long ago.

"Fuck off," I told Dan-the-happy-miner.

The expectant look on his face faded into startled bewilderment then to the beginnings of anger. "Hey, wait a minute. The bartender told me—"

"I don’t care what the fuck he told you," I said. " _I’m_ telling you to…." It was then I saw them come in the door, "…fuck ... off," I finished slowly. He was staring at my hand and when I looked down there was my phaser, fully charged and pointing at his belly. I didn’t even remember drawing it. Gods, I must be drunk.

Dan eased slowly away as his hands went up to placate me. They were shaking. "Sure. Take it easy, fella. Somebody’s made a mistake, that’s all. I didn’t mean ..…" He turned and faded into the crowd. Fast.

I didn’t really notice.

They stood out so clearly against the drab, dirty clothing the miners wore. Red. Blue. Command gold. So sharp. So clean. Like they were lit from inside. I held my breath and peered through the haze of dust and stale jezra smoke trying to get a glimpse of the insignia on the left breast of the uniforms. Praying it wouldn’t be…. But of course it was. A flash of gold. A delta sign. The _Enterprise_ insignia. The ship I would have served on if I hadn’t gotten kicked out of the Academy three days before graduation.

The fleet was in.

And I had to get out before they saw me. Had to get out, my numbed brain screamed silently, but then why did my feet feel rooted to the floor?

Chekov and yes, there was Sulu, still with that irrepressible grin that was as much a part of the man as the air he breathed, a step behind him. They’d been plebes the last time I’d seen them. As Sulu turned and lifted his hand to wave on the others coming in the door, the light caught the broken band of gold on his sleeve. A second lieutenant. Already. _Good for you, Hikaru_. _I knew you could do it._

And it couldn’t be, but of course it was. I would have recognized the set of those shoulders anywhere. Montgomery Scott. It became ‘Scotty’ after one shared drink and five minutes of conversation with the burly graduate student in engineering.

Just one more minute, I told myself. Just to see if the man in the medical blues Scotty was steering toward the bar was going to be whom I thought it was. But even before I saw his face, I knew.

Bones.

A little older than when I saw him last. A little more stoop to the shoulders. A little more space-weary maybe, but even across the crowded room the blue eyes sparkled with intelligence and compassion.

My friend. My best friend. We made an unlikely friendship. At least it seemed that way to others. Me, an Iowa farmboy with hayseed in his hair and stars in his eyes. Doctor Leonard McCoy; years older, teaching at the med center on the adjoining Starfleet base, a Georgia cracker with a smile that would melt butter and a hidden sadness he wouldn’t ever talk about.

I used to tell him that when I was made the youngest captain in ‘fleet, he’d be my CMO.

When he turned with a drink in his hand, propped his elbows on the bar and started to survey the room, the floor finally released its hold on my feet. Once he saw me in my working clothes he’d know how I’d been spending my time, and I didn’t need the pity I would see in his eyes. I was doing just fine on my own, thanks. Always had. Always would. I hitched the collar up to hide my face, and headed for the back door.

The old second-hand aircar I’d bought started up with only a few curses and one well-placed kick to its micro-ancillary drive. I slammed a random destination into the gear lock, and turned her nose into the night.

Broken dreams and what might have been.

Had it only been four years? I was a different person now than I had been at twenty. More than four years older and a hell of a lot more than four years wiser.

I hoped to hell Bones hadn’t seen me.

There was only one problem. With the automatic on I had nothing to do but think.

Suddenly I was back there on the blue carpet of Academy Head Dean Richardson’s office as she told me I’d been dismissed for what she called ‘cheating’ on the Kobayashi Maru. Creative problem solving, I called it. She said it was a disgrace to the service. I said it was unfair to have a no-win scenario. I said I didn’t like to lose. I said they should give me a commendation for original thinking.

She had more stripes on her sleeve than I did. Her version won.

It was raining that day in San Francisco as I returned to my room to pack. I could still hear the sound of it falling. A gentle June rain that fell from the sky like tears.

I left without saying good-bye.

It must have been twenty minutes before the soft summer rain of memory turned into the stinging sand that was actually hitting the aircar’s forward viewscreen. I looked up to see I was in the middle of a sandstorm. Must be a tarmesh, one of Vulcan’s infrequent sandstorms that rise without a moment’s notice from the L-langon Mountains to the south. Some of the old-timers in the bar talked about them with respect. Legend said they could strip the skin from an unprotected man in minutes. I hadn’t believed them then. Old miners’ tales, I’d thought. The wind-blown sand was making pockmarks in the transparent aluminum of my forward viewscreen, and I believed them now.

I tried to get some idea of where I was but the directional indicator had gone blank. It wouldn’t take much sand to block the sensor arrays. Shit. Why hadn’t I paid more attention to the vid weather report?

Of course then I hadn’t known Bones was going to pop back into my life.

I slammed on the manual drive and slowed the aircar’s speed, but she responded sluggishly to attempts to turn her around.

I didn’t see the huge domo tree until I’d crawled halfway up its trunk.

  
*****

The next time I opened my eyes, the sky was peeking in my forward viewscreen, and I wondered why I was back on the ship. Then I noticed sand had partially covered the transparent door hatch from outside. _What was sand doing in space? And who put that tree in the middle of my bridge?_ A searing pain shot through my side when I tried to move. Not one of my better ideas. Wasn’t much use anyway. I seemed to be pinned by the navigation panel. Something warm and sticky slid down my face and side.

It was kind of restful though with the sand…the rain…pattering on…the…ceiling of my bedroom. _Just let me sleep for five more minutes, Ma_ …. No. No ceiling. Only the roof of the aircar…. No…my ship…. Only where were the stars? I needed to see the stars.

_Were there stars in hell?_

While I thought about that for a minute or two, a face appeared in the viewscreen from above and I knew. Of course I was in hell. No doubt about it. No stars and a face with pointed ears and long hair that surely belonged to one of Satan’s minions. Mom was right all the time. She used to say I was headed there in something she called a ‘handbasket,’ whatever that was. But if this were hell, why was the face on a devil the most beautiful face I had ever seen?

Then the face disappeared. It was very confusing, so I just decided not to think about it any more and go to sleep for a while. I was suddenly very tired. Hard to sleep with that terrible wrenching noise though. I forced my eyes open and saw the beautiful devil face was back. Back and close and looking very concerned into mine. He braced himself against the bulkhead and something moved off my chest. Strands of devil hair fell softly across my cheek as he lifted me in his arms, and we walked out into the black of open space together.

I didn’t even need an EVA suit.

Amazing.

*****

The low sound of voices ebbed and flowed around me like a calm sea.

I opened my eyes to the soothing flicker of light skittering across the walls of a dimly lit room and two faces. One of them was the face in my dream.

Only now, of course, I saw he was a Vulcan. Not a devil, despite those elegantly upswept ears and brows to match, but the face was just as beautiful as I remembered, and surrounded by long hair as black as the open void of space he’d carried me into. I hadn’t seen many Vulcans, didn’t know much about them. We didn’t travel in the same circles. They rarely came into town and kept pretty much to themselves.

The other face was strikingly similar. Same ears. Same brows. Older features. Silver hair instead of black but just as long. "Who are you?" he asked.

"James Kirk," I croaked.

The dark-haired one immediately reached for a bowl and ladle close by. He lifted my shoulders and pressed the ladle to my lips. The water felt awfully good going down. So did his warm body next to mine.

They both helped me to lie back on crisp white pillows. The silver-haired one cleared his throat. "I am Sarek. It was my son who found you. You should be in a hospital, James Kirk." There was a stiff, disapproving note in his voice.

I tried to sit up and pain tore through my side like a knife. "No…. No hospital…." Bones would check in with the small hospital in Shit Kart as a matter of procedure.

Warm hands landed gently on my shoulders and eased me back to the bed. The beautiful one. "Please," I said and looked into his eyes. "I’m not in any trouble if that’s what you’re thinking."

"My name is Spock, and no one will move you unless you wish it, James Kirk."

The words helped, but the soft tone of his voice did even more to ease my mind.

"My son," the other said, "he is Human. His injuries may be more than Stavar can deal with. In any event the authorities in ShiKahr must be notified. It is not proper that those who care for him should suffer anxiety as to his fate."

"No one’s going to be worried about me," I whispered.

The two of them exchanged glances, then Spock turned back. He spoke to the older man, but it was me he watched, and I saw the confirmation of his promise in dark eyes. "In any event, Father, the storm still rages. Nothing can be done until it ceases. Let us see what Stavar advises."

"You are correct, my son. Very logical. I shall notify Stavar his skills are required."

Sarek cast a look down the bridge of his nose at me, and left the room.

I turned back to Spock, but his face seemed to be getting a little fuzzy around the edges. I blinked to clear it away. The look of concern on his face sharpened. A door opened, and suddenly the sound of the storm was closer. Then it slammed shut. "Your father’s not going out in this? Is your com unit down?" I tried to sit up. Damn, but it hurt.

Gentle hands pressed me back.

"Do not concern yourself. Sarek knows these storms well. He has lived through many of them, and the house of Stavar is not far."

"But your com…."

"We do not have a communications unit. Nor do we need one." One long-fingered hand brushed the hair back from my face. "You must rest now if you can. I will stay with you, James Kirk."

That sounded just fine. Didn’t know what else I could do anyway. "…m’friends call me Jim," I mumbled and closed my eyes.

He repeated my name. It sounded nice when he said it.

Later there were more low voices. I thought I heard something about "bruised ribs" and "concussion," but I just couldn’t surface long enough to focus.

When it was quiet again, I forced my eyes open. Spock was sitting by the bed looking like he’d been there a while. No, not a devil…an angel. A dark guardian angel standing watch.

I smiled and slept.

*****

Something warm touched my face. I opened my eyes to sunlight, and the sight of Spock standing before the small mirror over a dresser deftly twisting the long shimmering strands of his hair into a tight black braid. His eyes met mine in the mirror, and a shy smile lit his face. One final twist and the braid was done. It reached almost all the way down his back.

It was a sight I wouldn’t have minded waking up to more often.

He walked to the window, lowered the curtain a bit, then eased into the chair by the bed. The drab brown robe he wore made a pleasant sound. Around his slender neck was the only decoration, a tear-shaped pendant consisting of a clear crystal that contained a small green gem. The whole hung from a finely wrought chain, and glittered when he breathed.

"You are feeling better?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think so. My head hurts a little." I reached up and touched one small bandage covering one rather large bump. "You haven’t been here all night, have you?"

"I have been here for four nights. And four days," he added. "You have been very ill, James Kirk."

_Four days!_

"I…think I might have died in that storm if you hadn’t pulled me from the aircar. Thank you for saving my life,…Spock, isn’t it?"

He nodded, and I watched the muted beams of sunshine dance on his hair.

"I was pleased to have been of service."

"It was lucky for me you happened to be around. What were you doing out in that storm anyway?"

"I often go out at night to watch the stars. I saw the lights of your aircar as you hit the tree." His eyes glazed slightly. "The storm was very beautiful at first. The power of it. Wild and free." He looked down at me then, and swallowed once. "You must find it strange that I describe a tarmesh in that way…the storm that almost caused your death."

"No," I smiled. "No, I don’t. I know exactly what you mean. I was forced to land my transport on Vulcan because of an ion storm, and—"

"An ion storm."

"Yeah, sort of a sandstorm in space without the sand. Anyhow, even while it was tearing my ship apart I…felt what you felt that night. How awesome its power was. How beautiful."

"You fly among the stars."

It wasn’t a question, and I caught the wistfulness in his voice.

Before I could answer he rose suddenly. "I beg forgiveness. I have been talking when I should have gone to get Healer Stavar as soon as you awoke. He is here now and will wish to examine your injuries."

He started for the door.

"Wait…Spock. I think I can get up if you give me a hand." I swung my feet over the edge of the bed and tried to ignore the dizziness. "I'd like to thank Stavar for his help."

"Surely not, James Kirk. Your injuries are not yet healed."

I stuck out my hand. He took it and I hauled myself to my feet. It was then that I found I was naked. Well, almost naked, except for the binding that reached around my middle. My side hurt like hell, but I thought I could remain upright, and at that moment I needed a bathroom more than I needed to lie down again.

"The bathroom?" I asked.

"A bedpan," he parried.

"The bathroom." Counter thrust. Case closed.

He conceded gracefully. "Of course. Allow me to assist you."

With his help I managed the few steps, and after I was done he helped me back to the bedroom.

"If you’ll just hand me my clothes."

"You are a stubborn man, James Kirk. You are not well enough to get dressed."

"But that’s what I’m going to do, unless you want me to find Stavar and thank him buck naked."

That shy smile flitted across his face again, softening the sharp lines of cheekbone and jaw, making him look very young. He composed himself but the smile that disappeared from his mouth just rose to his eyes instead.

"I have placed your clothing in the dresser, but it is…ripped and unwearable. If you will wait a moment, I will find something for you to wear and then you will not have to face Stavar," one slanted brow rose high, "buck naked."

I laughed. A minute later he was back and helping me into a robe that was a twin to the one he wore only it was dark gray with deep pockets. A pair of black sandals slightly smaller than his own completed the outfit. These people weren’t much for bright colors. Except for the sleeves, it fit all right. My extra breadth across the shoulders compensated for the longer length.

"I apologize for the fit. It is one of mine. Perhaps if we roll up the sleeves?"

We both fiddled with it a bit and finally got the sleeves right. I must admit I let him fuss over those sleeves longer than he had to just to keep him close. He smelled like a fresh spring morning back on Earth with the hint of something clean and clear thrown in for good measure, and his hands were very warm and gentle. The thought hit me that since he hadn’t handed me any underclothes, just maybe he was as naked under that robe as I was. I took a step back, and cleared my throat. "I think I’m ready. All I need now is my phaser."

Immediately he stiffened. His eyes were very dark when they met mine, and the smile that had lurked there a half-minute ago was gone.

"It is there on the dresser, but I must ask you not to carry it while you reside in this house."

I met his look with one of my own. We were only separated by a meter of space, but he suddenly seemed very far away.

"All right," I said softly.

His features relaxed minutely. After a second he indicated the door and helped me across the room.

The bedroom opened onto a small landing by what looked to be the back door. Stairs to the second story were on the right and straight ahead was the combined kitchen/dining room.

Around a circular wood table sat Sarek and another Vulcan perhaps four or five years older and a bit heftier than Spock, otherwise looking much the same. He also wore a dark brown robe, though this one sported a hood that lay flat on his back and a pendant around his neck. His long hair was neatly done in a braid identical to the one Sarek wore.

Both men rose.

Sarek hastily pulled out a chair from the table. "Spock, he should not be up."

"My very words, Father, but our guest was…" Spock shot me a glance, "most insistent."

I will admit it felt good to sit down. Stavar and Sarek followed suit. "I’m much better, Sarek," I said and flashed him a grin to prove it. "Honest."

Spock’s father stiffened slightly. I was starting to get the idea the old guy didn’t like me.

He waved in my general direction. "Healer Stavar, this is James Kirk. Our guest from the…city."

I held out my hand, but Stavar didn’t take it. Instead he raised his hand in some kind of split-fingered sign. "Live long and prosper, James Kirk."

I glanced at Spock hoping for some hint as to how to reply, but he was busy pouring himself a cup of something dark brown from an earthenware pitcher on the table.

"Live long and prosper, Healer Stavar," I tried. It seemed to be an adequate response from the slight nod I got back. "I want to thank you for your help."

"I am fortunate to have been of service," he replied. "I do not have much experience in treating Humans, but it seems they are similar to Vulcans in many respects." He glanced at Sarek as if this were the continuation of an often repeated discussion between them.

The old man responded with a non-committal "Hmmm."

It got very quiet around the table. Spock was the first to break the silence. "Are you hungry, James Kirk?"

"No," I lied. These people didn’t have much to spare. The offerings on the table seemed limited to some fruit, dry cereal and milk. And that bathroom was downright primitive. The last time I saw a flush toilet was in a museum on Mars.

I relented a bit when the smell from the pitcher hit my nose. "That coffee sure smells good though."

Spock shared a look with his father, then rose to get a cup. "It is not coffee, but t’lax’ta, an infusion similar to tea. Would you like to try it?"

"Sure," I said, "I’ll try anything once."

Sarek ‘hmmmed’ again, and Spock poured me a cup.

"Coffee is a stimulant," Sarek said, "an artificial stimulant, like liquor, James Kirk. It has no place in the body of a healthy man."

I was beginning to get the picture. One gold skin-tight suit and the smell of Saurian brandy on an uninvited, unwelcome guest.

Spock frowned at his father, but it was Stavar who cleared his throat and changed the subject.

"I would advise no strenuous movement for at least a week, Guest Kirk. The bandages will need to be changed daily. And you must eat and rest to regain your strength. The revna," he glanced meaningfully at Spock and then at the cereal, "should not overtax the digestive system."

"I will see he follows your advice, Healer Stavar," Spock said, then he filled a bowl with the light brown grain, stuck in a spoon, poured in some milk, and set it front of me with a decisive thump.

Just then there was a knock at the door. Sarek got up to answer it, and after a moment came back followed by a young woman about Spock’s age and a small boy who looked to be no more than five. The child was dressed in a miniature version of the ubiquitous robe, and I noticed he didn’t wear one of the pendants though his mother did.

"Ah, here you are, my husband. Our son missed his father and could not wait a moment longer."

She handed the covered pot she carried to Sarek who placed it on the stove. "Some plomeek soup for our guest, Uncle Sarek, to restore his strength." She looked curiously at me from under the hood of her dull green robe as she pushed it back.

Stavar rose and held out two fingers of his right hand. Immediately the woman crossed to him, matching his gesture and their fingers touched. Stavar then offered the split-fingered sign to his son who was very busy staring at me and didn’t see it. I grinned at him. A quiet "Senek" from his mother brought his attention back, and he returned his father’s greeting.

"How was the road today?" Stavar asked her.

"Quite good. Last night’s wind has removed most of the remaining sand. Good day, Cousin Spock." She spoke to Spock but her eyes landed on me before darting away. She was as curious about me as her son.

"This is T’Lea, niece to Sarek, cousin to Spock and she-who-is-my-wife, and this little one who has forgotten it is not polite to stare is our son, Senek." There was no mistaking the pride in Stavar’s voice.

I started to get up, but Stavar waved me back down. "Live long and prosper, T’Lea, wife of Healer Stavar." I was starting to get the hang of this. I even managed a credible imitation of the hand sign. "And to you also, Senek."

T’Lea’s eyes widened slightly as if she were a little surprised by my response. She and her husband shared a glance, then she prodded the boy gently. His eyes never veered from my face. It was obvious he had never seen a Human before.

"Live long and prosper, Guest Kirk."

I shot him another grin and winked.

When I looked at Spock, his eyes were sparkling with amusement. He had noticed the boy’s single-minded attention. "Eat," he said softly.

I took a spoonful of the revna, managed to swallow although it was difficult, and hoped like hell plomeek soup tasted better.

Sarek fished around in the antique refrigeration unit and came out with what looked like an orange plum. "The zek’a’kels ripened just yesterday, Senek. I saved the very first one for you."

The boy didn’t even hear him. He was still staring at my face.

"Senek," his mother prompted, "Uncle Sarek has spoken to you."

"His ears, Mother…. His ears truly are round. And look at the color of his hair."

All the adults stiffened at the boy’s indiscretion, but I had to smile. "It’s all right. Really," I assured them. "Would you like a closer look, Senek?"

A solemn nod. I beckoned him over. He threw a look at his mother but bravely came to my chair.

The boy had his father’s square chin and the deep brown hair and eyes of his mother. I turned my head slowly from side to side. "All Humans have rounded ears, Senek, but many have hair the exact same color as yours. Sometimes it’s darker like your cousin Spock’s, sometimes lighter like mine." Those eyes couldn’t have grown any larger as he inspected my fascinating differences.

The adults tried to cover the awkward moment with conversation about the storm and damage to crops. T’Lea turned to Sarek. "Oh, before I forget, Uncle, Stonn came to the house this morning and asked me to tell you he and the others will be by to help clear the irrigation channels."

A small hand reached for my ear.

"Kroykah, Senek! That is enough. You are keeping Guest Kirk from his breakfast," Stavar rebuked.

The boy rapidly withdrew his hand and returned to his father’s side. That reminded me of the debt I had to repay.

"Healer Stavar, we haven’t discussed your fee. When I can travel back to Shit Kart—" For a moment I didn’t know why T’Lea’s and Stavar’s faces dropped, and a satisfied look appeared on Sarek’s. I looked to Spock who coughed into his hand and whispered _ShiKahr_ under his breath. He seemed to find it very amusing. The dirty look I gave him told him I didn’t. "Um…I mean ShiKahr, of course. Forgive my mispronunciation. Well, when I go back to my room I can get my money and—"

"That will not be necessary, James Kirk. It is logical that I use whatever skills I possess to give aid."

"But…."

The sounds of men’s voices coming from outside interrupted us. Sarek checked the window. "Stonn and the others have come." He started for the door. "They will need to know where to start."

"Uncle Sarek, may I have the zek’a’kel now?"

We all laughed, or at least I did. The others smiled with their eyes. "So you did hear me after all. You may indeed, Senek. You know where they are kept."

"I wish to discuss something with Stonn," Stavar added. Sarek, Spock and T'Lea left with Stavar who admonished his son as he went, "You will not disturb Guest Kirk, Senek. He wishes to finish his breakfast."

I really didn’t, but I decided it would be better not to mention that.

I went to the opened door after they left. They were a handsome, if rather dour people, though I couldn’t say much for either their food or their choice of clothing. I watched for a few minutes as they sorted out who of the roughly twenty or so young and middle-aged men was going to work where, and noticed something odd. Several surreptitious looks were cast in my direction. The younger men appeared more curious than anything, and while the older ones’ faces didn’t reveal their feelings, the message in their eyes was unwelcoming. And they kept glancing at Spock and then back at me as if they were comparing us somehow.

A small sound drew my attention back across the hall and through the open door of the bedroom. There Senek stood, my loaded phaser in his hand. Even from three meters away I could see the green ready signal flashing, the knob past the stun setting and all the way to "kill". He twisted it around until the business end was pointing directly at his chest. One small, olive-tinged finger rested on the firing stud.

"Kroykah!" I shouted. The boy froze. _Don’t run, don’t run_. _You'll frighten him_."Don’t move, Senek." I walked slowly toward him, and took the phaser out of his hand. I snapped the stud to the off position, clicked on the safety, and watched the green ready light fade slowly to red then black.

Heart hammering in my chest, knees shaking, I took my first breath in what seemed like an hour, turned and placed the phaser back on the dresser. A long-fingered hand closed gently over mine. Spock. _How much had he seen?_

"He will always remain curious about it if it is a forbidden object," he said quietly. "It is now safe to handle?"

Evidently he’d seen enough.

I nodded, and he eased the phaser from under my hand.

"Come here, Senek," he said as he sat on the bed and drew the boy close. "Do you know what this is?"

Solemnly, the boy shook his head from side to side.

"It is called a phaser. Do you know what its purpose is?"

"No, Cousin Spock."

"Let me ask you a question, Senekkam. What is the purpose of the fellets in the barn?"

"To make milk for their young and for us, Cousin Spock."

"Yes, that is correct. And the purpose of the revna we plant in the field?"

"To feed the fellets and us."

"Again you are correct. And like the fellets and the revna, we are also here for a purpose. Do you know what it is?"

"We are here to follow Father Surak’s rules, to live mor…mor…."

"Moral."

"Yes…to live moral lives, and to help each other."

"Very good. And why do we help each other? Why do we work hard together, Senek, sometimes even when we are tired and do not wish to? Why do we help each other to plant and reap what the land provides?"

"That is an easy question, Cousin Spock. "’The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.’"

"…Or the one. You have learned your lessons well, Senekkam. That is also correct."

Spock looked down at the phaser and placed it in the boy’s hand. "This phaser has a purpose also. It was originally designed to kill animals for meat, and to harm other beings."

The boy looked at it curiously. "But Cousin Spock, we do not eat meat, and it is wrong to harm others."

Spock nodded, and met my eyes over the small head. "Then I do not think we have much use for a phaser, do we Senekkam?"

The boy placed the phaser back into Spock’s hand. "No, Cousin Spock. May I eat my zek’a’kel now?"

Spock returned his gaze to the boy’s face, eyes filled with love. "Yes, of course." Senek trotted off in the direction of the kitchen. "Do not get the juice on your robe or your mother will not be pleased with either of us," he called out after the small form.

Slowly Spock rose. We looked at each other for a moment.

"From time to time others have come and said we must use weapons such as this one. The reasons they give are many. We must protect ourselves. We must fight in this or that just cause."

He reached for my hand and placed the phaser into it. "There is always an alternative, James Kirk."

_What could I say to that? Not in my world?_

"If you feel well enough to be alone, I am needed elsewhere. You should rest."

I nodded numbly, and he left.

Later that afternoon when Stavar came to change the bandages, he brought me a bowl of his wife’s plomeek soup.

It tasted worse than the revna, and I flushed it down the toilet after he had gone.

*****

When I got up the next morning I felt much better. There was no shower in the bathroom, so I made do with the sink. The kitchen was empty. I poured myself a cup of t’lax’ta and rummaged around in the refrigeration unit ‘till I came up with a few of those Vulcan plums. I don’t know if they were really as sweet as they tasted or if it was just that I was starving, but they even made the revna palatable. I was on my third bowl when a door shut and Sarek entered the kitchen.

"Good morning, Sarek," I said.

"Good morning; James Kirk. Has your sleep refreshed you?" He moved to the sink and washed his hands.

"Yes, thanks. Where’s Spock?"

"We rise early here. He has been up for hours, and is presently examining the irrigation channels."

_Ah, not one minute of conversation and the first dig already._

I carried my bowl to the sink. "And if I were to go looking for him, Sarek, where would I find these irrigation channels?"

That brought his head around. "Behind the barn, James Kirk."

"Sarek, James Kirk is my whole name. Where I come from, when you know a man you call him by his first name. My first name is James, or Jim to my friends."

"I see," he gave me a long appraising look. After a moment I started for the back door. "The men have removed your aircar from the sand." I turned. "It is at the side of the house. By the way, you have been invited to witness the bonding of T'Van, sister to Healer Stavar and her husband-to-be, Storet. It will take place on Saturday—"

_What was this? A thaw?_ "I’d be delighted to attend."

"—if you are still here on Saturday, that is."

_Make that a sudden freeze._ "A bonding? What’s that?"

"If you are still here on Saturday you will certainly have the opportunity to find out, will you not?" I reached for the doorknob. "James Kirk."

I had to laugh. I suspected the old man could be a formidable enemy, and he obviously wasn’t too fond of me, but I thought somehow he would make an equally staunch friend. Not that I was going to be around long enough to make him one. "I suppose I will, Sarek."

I found the aircar easily enough…what was left of it. It didn’t look like it would be going anywhere in a hurry. The top shield was almost completely crushed, the clogged deflector grid smashed. For a moment, the memory came rushing back. Warm, soothing hands that were gentle enough to comfort combined with the strength to move a tree.

The bright, warm light of morning hit me as I stood there. I shivered in spite of it and didn’t know if it was because of how close I had come to death, or how good those comforting, strong hands had felt.

I was passing the barn when Spock stuck his head out. Good morning, James Kirk."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. Spock raised one long brow in inquiry. "Never mind," I said. "I was hoping I could get you to show me around."

"Are you certain you are well enough to be up?" At my nod, he added, "Then I would be pleased to do so. I must finish my tasks in the barn first, however. Will you wait?"

I nodded again and followed him inside. The barn smelled like all barns everywhere, thick with the smell of hay and warm animals. Motes of dust filtered down in the light that made it through the cracks in the old beamed roof. I took a deep breath. It smelled like home.

Spock had moved to a stool by something that resembled a cow…if you had taken one more shot of Saurian than was good for you, but the sound of a stream of milk hitting the side of a bucket doesn’t change even if the beast had six teats instead of four as they did back where I came from.

This at least was familiar. Even when Mom could afford the new automatic units that transported the milk straight to the dairy, it was a chore I did often. She had the crazy idea working with your hands built character. I pulled a bucket off the wall, drew up a stool to the…fellet?…across the aisle from Spock and proceeded to pull.

I guess it was something you never forgot.

"You do that very well, Spock said, not quite hiding his surprise. "I was not aware that knowledge of milking was a requirement for space travel."

"Well, that’s how much you know. I beg to inform you, sir, that I keep a small herd upon my ship and milking ranks right up there with dodging asteroids and watching stars go nova as one of my favorite pastimes."

Let’s see if I still had the touch. I sighted my target, took aim and fired a stream of milk that hit Spock right in the chest. Bullseye!

The expression on his face was priceless. That eyebrow rose again. He looked like he couldn’t quite believe what I had done then bowed his head to watch the milk drip down his robe. Slowly his eyes shifted to meet mine. "I do not see the logic in that action. Milk is not to be wasted."

I sighed again—seemed I was doing a lot of that lately—and got back to work.

A stream of warm milk hit me right in the side of the face, and when I looked over there was a decidedly smug look to Spock’s raised brow.

"And I thought you were a pacifist. You realize of course, this means war."

We squirted and hit and ducked until we both were covered and our respective arsenals were empty.

And Spock laughed.

Spock, when he wore his normal somber face, was a delight. Spock, with that shy half-smile, was a treasure.

But Spock when he laughed…. Spock, when he laughed was…glorious.

It rose from deep, and poured out of his mouth in a low rolling baritone that warmed me all the way through. It rose from some hidden place inside him, lit up his whole face, made his dark eyes shimmer and glisten and sparkle as if all the fireworks of Federation Day had gone off at once.

I had the feeling it was a sound he didn’t often make.

If he were mine, I’d make sure it was a sound we heard a lot.

_If he were mine_ ….

What the hell was I thinking?

It got very quiet. The smile slowly faded from his face, and we both went back to work, finishing the rest of the milking in silence.

Spock showed me where to put the milk. We cleaned up our hands and faces and what we could of our clothes in a pail of water, walked outside, and led the fellets into a nearby sparsely-grassed pasture. The day had turned hot.

"Do you still wish to see the farm? I fear it will be boring to you after all the things you must have seen, the places you have been."

"No." Being with Spock was many things, but boring could never be one of them. I put my hand on his arm, and noticed Sarek watching us with narrowed eyes from the kitchen window over Spock’s shoulder. "No, not at all. I’d like to see it." I turned Spock away slightly before the old man could find something else for him to do.

Out behind the barn the land stretched out before us, dry by Earth’s standards but rich and lush and bursting with life from what I had seen of Vulcan’s arid plains. Spock showed me the irrigation channels and the intricate but primitive system for keeping them free of the ever-present desert sand that lay just beyond the farm’s southern border.

I looked around. Not an automated piece of farm machinery was to be seen. Actually, now that I remember, the only thing in the barn besides the fellets and some hand tools was a black, hooded carriage.

"Don’t tell me you work this place without automated equipment?"

A solemn nod. "We do. Sarek and I and the others. Our farm is one of the largest, but we tend the land in common."

"But…." I closed my mouth before I could put my foot in it. It must have taken years of back-breaking toil to wrench this patch of life from the desert. And it would take long years of the same to keep it productive into the future.

Automated machinery or not, it was what I had turned my back on when I had sought the stars.

We followed the main irrigation channel as it wound among stalks of golden brown revna, waist-high and rippling in the hot desert breeze. Spock occasionally stooped to remove an errant clod of the red clay-like soil, or push a wooden stake more firmly into the ground. Each movement spoke of grace, of agility. His hands, long-fingered and quick, looked more like an artist’s or a musician’s than a farmer’s. His feet knew the land intimately.

Eventually the channel led through a copse of huge domo trees, and opened into a pond Spock said was fed by a rare underground spring. There were no oceans, no rivers, he explained, and this small patch of water was among the few natural sources on the planet. The water was sweet and cool to my dry throat.

We sat under a particularly large and shady domo. Spock watched the water, elbows on bent knees, hands clasped together.

Spock watched the water and I watched Spock.

"Now you have seen where I come from," he said. "And your world?" Turning to me, a sharp intense light came into the dark eyes. "Tell me of that."

"Isn’t much to tell," I shrugged. "I was raised on a farm pretty much like this one, only not as…’ _primitive_ ’ _came to mind, but_ _I couldn’t say that,_ …uh, it was a little more automated." Dad was a spacer. Died when I was eleven. My older brother Sam took off soon after. Anyway, when my mother died, some loans came due and I had to sell out. Didn’t do too badly. It was enough to pay for my tuition to Sta— to school."

"Would you tell me of your travels?" he asked.

So I told him. I told him of the Great Barrier at the edge of the galaxy. Of purple skies and orange seas. Of beings that were silicon rock creatures, and beings that were salt vampires. Of the life of an independent trader. But mostly I told him of the stars and what they meant to me. Beauty. Adventure.

And the most important of all. Freedom.

His eyes grew wide as Senek’s.

I will admit to leaving out a few things. Things like how lonely space could be when you’ve just watched a meteor shower light up Risa’s night with incredible loveliness, and have no one to share it with. Things like almost dying of choriomeningitis while the medicine that could save you is across the cabin but you’re too weak to get to it. Things like what you have to do when you crash land on a dusty planet and have no money to repair your ship.

I asked him about his life. What he wanted to do with it.

"My plans would seem very limited to you after all you have seen," he said. His eyes turned back to the water. A few strands of the tightly-bound, black braid escaped to wave gently in a sudden gust of desert wind, softening the sharp lines of his face.

"I’d like to hear them."

"I know you believe we exist in a primitive manner, but we were not always so isolated from the outside world. Other clans on Vulcan have always preferred to segregate themselves from Federation technology, but living as we do so close to ShiKahr, we had chosen to have more contact with our neighbors. Eight years ago the Council of Elders of our clan decreed that all but the most necessary interaction between us and…outworlders should cease. That we should return to the old ways. My father is on the council. My grandmother, T’Pau. heads it."

That explained a lot.

"There are some of my people, the children like Senek especially, who have never seen anyone different from themselves." He turned to me. "I do not think this is a wise decision. There is much we could learn from others. Much we could teach."

I nodded encouragingly.

He looked down at the ground between his feet, then back up to my face. "There is great beauty in the infinite diversity among beings, James Kirk. I am not alone in my thinking. There are others, mostly the young who feel the same. Stavar wishes to know more of the healing arts. Stonn wishes to form a food collective to sell our produce in the city. T’Lea is an artist, and wishes to see more of others’ work."

"And you?" I said. "What do you wish for?"

He glanced once at the sky through the branches of the domo tree. "My wishes are more modest, James Kirk. I wish for a computer to regulate the flow of water in the irrigation channels, to increase the yield of the crops. With a computer, I could also tie into the Federation Worlds’ Information Network." He shrugged, a nonchalant movement, but when his eyes met mine they were burning with inner fire.

"I could learn everything there is to know."

_A more modest wish_."Everything there is to know. That’s quite a lot."

He smiled that very small half-smile again, the one that hardly moved his mouth at all. "Perhaps not everything," he conceded, "but great deal. A very great deal."

"Well, why don’t you? You and the others are grown men and women. Nobody has the right to tell you how to live your lives."

His face grew somber. "Yes, here they do. We cede that right for the ultimate good of all of us. ‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.’"

"…Or the one." For just a moment longer we looked at each other. Seated less than a meter away, he seemed distant, unapproachable. The worlds we inhabited were different, yes, but not as different as the way we viewed them. That gulf yawned between us. For me, the needs of the one, of each individual to realize his or her full potential unimpeded as long as they didn’t hurt anyone were of paramount importance. In any other direction lay the map to tyranny.

I reminded myself it was none of my business.

Then we connected again as he rose and held out a hand to help me up.

**"** I had not realized how late it was," he said. "I have promised to help Senal repair his barn this afternoon."

My robe stuck to my legs as we started back. I pulled it away, and the stench of sour milk rose to wrinkle both our noses. "I think I have to change."

**"** I need to as well. The weather is quite warm. Forgive me. I should not have kept you out in this heat. You will rest when we return?" It was phrased as a question, but he didn’t mean it that way.

By the time we got back to the house, our robes reeked of the smell. Sarek was in the kitchen. It took a half-second for the odor to reach his nose.

"Spock? Did Lepaz kick over the bucket again?"

"No, Father."

"Well, what happened? Your robe smells…most unpleasant."

Spock glanced at me then back to his father. "James Kirk…that is to say…I…." He stopped then started again. "The milk—"

I cut in. "Sarek, you know your fellets are just like the cows we had back on the farm in Iowa. I swear they would wait until I had the bucket nearly full before they would try to kick it over. We had this one cow, Zelda was her name—"

Spock stepped in front of me. "Father, James Kirk and I squirted milk at each other. We then sat in the heat and the milk soured." Sarek stiffened. "We wish to change our clothing, and if I am to appear at Senal’s farm on time, it will have to be now." He turned to me. "I will bring a fresh robe to your room." I followed meekly behind leaving Sarek with one gray eyebrow on the rise.

Once in my room, I took off the offending garment. A moment later there was a knock at the door. "Come," I said. Just one long arm entered, a fresh robe on the extended fingers. "Let me have the other one," Spock said from beyond the mostly closed door. I handed it to him, and the arm withdrew.

I tossed on the robe, threw open the door and spoke to his retreating back, "The Zelda story would have worked, you know."

His step faltered, but only for a moment, then went on. He didn’t answer me.

That night I lay on the bed, stared at the white ceiling, and thought for a long time. The thoughts I was thinking would have disrupted a lot of lives. Mine. Spock’s. Sarek’s. Others I didn’t even know.

A lot of lives.

Sleep was a long time in coming. When it did, I dreamed of Spock standing on the bridge of my ship, lean naked body framed against the viewscreen, black hair loose and down around his shoulders.

Beyond the ship, a million stars went nova in celebration.

The next morning I walked into the kitchen and told Spock and Sarek it was time I was getting back to ShiKahr.

They argued, of course, or rather Spock argued. Said I wasn’t strong enough yet. Said I needed to rest for another few days. He even said he couldn’t spare the time from his work to take me back. His father sat across from me and assured him that just this once he could. Across his bowl of revna, our eyes met and held in perfect communication while Spock talked.

Finally, Spock ran out of arguments. He cast one last look at the old man, and left to do the chores.

Sarek filled a bowl with revna, poured in some milk and pushed it over. I started to eat. The kitchen was very quiet. We looked at each other over the table, and for the first time the steel-gray eyes viewed me with approval. "You have made the right decision, James Kirk," he said softly.

I knew I had. I was starting to get entirely too used to the taste of revna.

An hour and a half later, Spock drew up to the front door in the black carriage. It was drawn by something that more resembled an Earth horse than the fellet did a cow. No mane or tail though. Spock said they didn’t need one. No flies on Vulcan.

The trip back to ShiKahr took three hours instead of the twenty minutes it took me to get here. That seemed right somehow. It should take a long time to bridge the gap between two worlds.

We didn’t have much to say to each other.

As we pulled up to the bar, I saw the town through Spock’s eyes. Heard it through Spock’s ears. Gray shabby buildings, bars and brothels, restaurants and dingy hotels. The normal hustle and bustle of a late Friday afternoon. Miners getting an early start on a night of drinking. It all sounded too loud, too harsh. Busy. Noisy. Cheap.

We both got out of the carriage, and looked at each other.

"Spock…." "James Kirk…."

I laughed, and Spock dipped his head and smiled his little half-smile. I thought I might remember that smile for a long time. A very long time. "Go ahead, you first," I said.

"You will remember to rest, and eat properly? You are not yet completely recovered."

"What are you, my mother?" But I knew my eyes would tell him I was only teasing. "Yeah, sure," I added just so he would know for certain. "Tell Senek I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to say good-bye. I’d like to pay Stavar—"

"He would not accept it."

"I know. Please tell him and T’Lea thanks and good-bye for me, and that I’m sorry to miss T’Van’s wed…bonding."

"I will."

"You could tell Sarek that all Earthers don’t eat small children for breakfast. He might want to remember that the next time one crashes into his tree."

"He knows that already, but I will be certain to pass on the information."

I noticed that today his eyes were a warm sable brown instead of black. Maybe I saw a hint of sadness there. Maybe it was just my imagination. The pendant glittered in the late afternoon light, a constant reminder of all the things we didn’t know about each other and now would never have the chance to learn. There didn’t seem to be much else to say. Even so we both stood and looked into each other’s eyes for another few moments. "Right. If you’ll wait a minute until I change, I’ll bring you back the robe and sandals."

"That is not necessary."

My grin slipped a bit. "Yes. Yes, it is," I said softly.

His gaze dropped then returned to my face, tacitly acknowledging that we’d shared something important in our brief friendship. I turned to go.

"I have…enjoyed meeting you, James Kirk."

That brought my head around. "And I’ve enjoyed meeting you, Spock of Vulcan. Don’t give up on your dreams."

He nodded solemnly, and I started for the bar knowing if I didn’t walk away from him then, I might not be able to walk away…ever.

The bar looked as seedy as always.

""Well, you certainly took your own sweet time about getting back. Where the hell you been? I lost a lot of customers that came looking for you and left," Ephram whined as he looked up from checking receipt chips.

Bam! My world closed around me with the finality of a door slamming.

I leaned on the banister. "Hello to you, too. What’s the matter, Ephram? Been missing your ten per cent?"

"What the fuck you dressed up as?"

I didn’t bother to answer, but took the stairs to my room. It was undisturbed, and my money just where I’d left it. I heaved a sigh of relief. No need to threaten Ephram with bodily harm after all.

I dug out a pair of jeans, boots, and a plaid shirt, and took off the robe and sandals. For some reason they were a little hard to get out of. I dressed quickly, neatly folded the robe. Took a minute to stroke the soft nap of the fabric, and think that saddest of Human thoughts; what might have been. Hell, who was I kidding? It never would have worked. Not in a million lifetimes.

I was coming down the stairs when I first heard the voices.

"Well, well. Whatta we got here?"

"What we got here, Billy Joe, is one a them Vulcans."

Spock stood by the carriage, face expressionless, looking straight ahead. Two burly miners, hands on their hips, were in front of him, and others were starting to form a small enclosing group.

The slightly taller one began a slow circle around Spock, looking him up and down with beady green eyes. "Kinda pretty though, ain’t he, Bobby?" Somebody laughed.

I started through the crowd. Spock glared at me, the message blazing clearly from the dark eyes. I was to stay out of it. The steely gaze returned to look straight ahead.

"Sure is. Look at that hair. Slitherin’ skoles, if it ain’t near down to his ass."

Billy Joe lifted the long braid with one thick hand. I took another two steps forward to the front of the crowd. Spock whipped his head around in my direction. "It is all right, James Kirk. It happens from time to time. Do not interfere."

The other one laughed. "Yeah, do not interfere, James Kirk," he mimicked.

Ole Billy dropped the braid he’d been fondling, and sent an amused look my way. "You don’t want to get your ass kicked. Not for this…coward who won’t even stand up for hisself. Everybody knows Vulcans is just damn yella."

Spock met my eyes, then turned to get into the carriage when one meaty hand closed on his arm, and spun him around. "Not so fast. I always been curious what Vulcans got on under them long robes." Billy Joe bent over to get a good clear look. The other hand dropped and began to lift the robe.

I smiled, absurdly grateful he’d done that. Otherwise I’d have had to let Spock handle it. Casually I walked to the carriage and placed the robe and sandals inside. Then I turned and plowed my knee into the miner’s face.

After Spock’s laugh, the sound of my knee breaking sweet Billy Joe’s nose was the nicest sound I’d ever heard.

There was a moment of shocked silence. Billy Joe raised a hand to check if his nose was still there, and began to wail as the blood proceeded to gush past stubby fingers. His friend decided to get in on the fun. Ole Bobby landed one on my jaw before I could set myself, but my next one landed right on his belt buckle, and down he went, sucking air like an intake valve.

That’s when it started to get interesting.

A few of the others in the crowd pressed forward. One grabbed me from behind and threw me into the side of the carriage. I slammed hard against my injured side and started to fold. Very pretty lights twinkled at the edges of my vision. I was going to ask Spock to take a look, but he was busy.

One of his hands landed on the neck of the guy that shoved me. Fingers tightened. Eyes rolled back. Body crumbled. Spock eased the slumped figure carefully to the ground.

It got very quiet for a moment, and I thought now might be a particularly good time to get out of there.

"I believe Humans have an expression that would fit this set of circumstances," Spock said as he put one hand under my elbow and helped me up and into the carriage.

"Oh yeah, what's that?" Three Spock-faces peered into mine.

"’Discretion is the better part of valor.’" He climbed in next to me and slapped the reins lightly on the kova’s back.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of Starfleet Medical blue, and the sound of a familiar voice. "Let me through. I’m a doctor. What the hell happened here? …Jim? Jim Kirk, is that you?"

I didn’t turn around.

Three kilometers out from town, Spock eased the kova to a stop. "Are you well?"

I nodded, and pressed my hand a little tighter against my side.

"Allow me to see."

"Really, Spock, I’m all right."

Spock could be very intimidating when he frowned, and right now I was getting the full treatment. Gently he removed my hand and opened the plaid shirt.

"You are bleeding."

"No, look, it’s stopping already."

"You need a doctor, James Kirk."

"Dammit, I don’t need a doctor. And what the hell do I have to do to get you people to call me ‘Jim’!"

Spock turned and studied the road with full concentration. A sound to the kova and we started moving again.

"Do you wish to go back to town?"

_Yes! Tell him yes!_ My head fairly screamed it. "Uh, no," my heart answered. "Maybe you’re right after all. I am a little stiff. Maybe I should wait a few more days before I go back."

"Look, I’m sorry," I said after five minutes of silence. "I really am. I shouldn’t have snapped at you."

"It is—"

"And don’t say it’s all right. It’s not all right. Nothing that happened back there was all right. I don’t understand you people. This is your planet. How can you put up with that? Why the hell don’t you kick every outworlder off Vulcan?"

"They come for the dilithium. In time it will be gone, and they will move on to some other place. The planet will heal. We are a long-lived people. We can afford to be patient."

I watched his graceful hands hold the reins. The regular clip-clop of the kova was soothing as the day slid toward evening.

"What was that neck hold you did back there? Can you teach it to me?"

Spock shrugged. "It is a little known Vulcan technique that Humans find impossible to learn. I have already attempted to instruct someone in its use. I have failed."

"Oh."

After a while he turned. "I have a question, but you need not answer if it is too personal."

"Ask away."

"As we left ShiKahr, someone called to you. From the expression on your face you knew who it was. May I ask why you did not respond?"

"You don't miss a trick, do you?" I watched the land roll by. "Bones."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Bones. It was Bones. A friend of mine. His name is Doctor Leonard McCoy. Bones is a nickname, short for ‘sawbones’, a slang term for a doctor."

"I see. A short name for a slang term. Standard is a…most complex language."

I had to smile. "You really are something, you know that?"

He turned, face set in its beautiful, dignified Vulcan lines. "You also are something. And the reason you did not acknowledge this Bones?"

"Oh, all right…. You sure you want to hear this?"

A solemn nod.

Maybe it was time for the daring young spacer to lose some of his luster.

I told him the whole Academy story. And waited for the lecture on honesty, morality, and the Vulcan way.

It never came.

He mulled it over for a few moments. "Did you feel you had done something wrong?" he finally asked.

I had to think about that one for a minute or two. "Actually I didn’t." I was surprised to find that out. "I don’t think I did anything wrong. I was going to be a Starfleet captain. Captains have to think on their feet. Be prepared for any eventuality. They have a responsibility to bring their ship and crew through, to protect them. Others can give in to the no-win scenario; a captain doesn’t have that luxury. He has to believe in himself or he can’t command."

I realized I was getting a little…vehement, and turned back to watch the desert.

"You believed in yourself, and yet you ran. Then and now."

That snapped my head around. "I didn’t run. I left. Both times. There’s a difference. I guess I was…embarrassed. I didn’t want to talk to Bones. My life now isn’t quite what either of us envisioned it would be. And what the hell was I supposed to do back then? Dean Richardson kicked me out."

"Was there nothing you could have done?""

"I could have asked for a full review board, but she would have been on it and she’d already made up her mind about me. It wouldn’t have done any good."

Spock tipped his head, studied me out of those shining sable eyes. "You are certain of this?"

"Well…sure. I suppose even after all this time I could apply for a hearing, but it wouldn’t change anything. Sometimes, like back in town, there just aren’t any alternatives."

Spock turned to watch the kova’s rump. "Umm," he grunted, sounding very like his father. "There are always alternatives, James Kirk."

I felt my aching jaw. Flexed my bruised hand. Thought of that neck pinch. Watched him sitting there so calm and cool, not a hair out of place on his elegant head.

And began to wonder if maybe, just maybe, the man had a point.

Both suns had long since set by the time we reached the farm. The house was dark, Sarek obviously having gone to bed. It was even hotter now than it had been at mid-day.

I was more uncomfortable than a Tellerite with hives, my side hurt like a son-of-a-nartog, and I was back where I had no business being. The end to a truly wonderful day.

I helped Spock brush and water the kova. We started for the dark house when a thought occurred, and I abruptly turned and headed in the opposite direction.

"Where are you going?" Spock asked.

"I, my friend, am going to take a dip in your very cool pond."

"At night? In the dark?"

The incredulous tone of voice made me smile. "It usually is dark at night."

"But you have undoubtedly re-injured yourself. Rest—"

I started off again. "—will feel a lot better when I’ve cooled off."

"Wait. If you are determined to pursue this most unwise course of action, it is my duty to accompany you so no harm befalls you."

"In other words, you’re coming."

"If you can contain yourself for a few moments while I get something from the house, the answer is ‘yes’."

"All right, but hurry up or I’ll go without you."

I sensed his eyebrow go up even though I couldn’t see it. In a few minutes he was back, something white under his arm.

As beautiful as the pond was by daylight it was even lovelier at night. The stars were thickly clustered above us, their light reflecting spangled jewels in the dark water.

For the briefest moment my heart ached to be back among them with a pain that was overwhelming.

"The stars are truly beautiful, are they not?" Spock said, eyes raised.

"Yes," I breathed. Maybe I didn’t have Starfleet, but I had the stars. At least I had the stars. It shook me to my core to realize that some part of me had actually considered giving them up, and that I wasn’t aware of it until this very second. How could I have thought, even for a moment, of tying myself to one world when the stars were waiting? Soon…I silently promised them…soon.

When I lowered my eyes, it was to find Spock studying me intently.

I ducked my head, and began to strip off my sweat soaked clothes, wondering how much I had revealed by one whispered word. Somehow, the way he was looking at me made me think he could almost read my thoughts.

"I brought this for you to wear," he finally said, holding out what turned out to be a white, short-sleeved, short-legged outfit made in one piece.

"Is that supposed to be a bathing suit?"

"It is a light-weight sleeping garment. I do not possess a suit for bathing."

"I don’t want it." By this time I was naked. "Haven’t you ever been skinny-dipping?"

He started taking off his robe, eyes carefully averted from my nakedness. "Skinny…?"

"Dipping," I finished, disappointed to see he also wore the white pajamas. "An old Earth tradition. It means to go swimming…buck naked."

He smiled just that little smile, that tiniest up-turning of finely chiseled lips I loved, and I knew he remembered.

"Certainly not. Vulcans do not swim for pleasure, nor do they dip their skins," he said primly, "except to bathe."

I could have hugged him. I could have, but I didn’t. Instead I threw my arms wide and started running. "Geronimo!" The water felt fantastic as it closed over the top of my head. When I broke the surface, it was to see Spock following more sedately. Arms cleaved the water with strong graceful motions, until he reached me.

We treaded water together.

Dark head tilted slightly to one side. "What does it mean, this ‘Geronimo’?"

I laughed. "Damned if I know." He floated quietly there in front of me, arms swirling just below the surface of the water. A sky full of stars back-lit his head, and gleamed their lights from the dark water totally surrounding his face. Spock encased in stars.

I’ve seen the crystal falls on Taron, the incredible sight of Lada Prime lit by seven crimson moons. I’ve even seen the flying dragons on Berengaria VII. They were nothing compared to the sight of Spock by starlight. I thought of my dream.

"I’ll have to check the computer when I get back to my ship." I cleared my throat to get rid of the hoarseness, and silently thanked the gods the dark water hid my newly sprung erection. "Did you know I have tie-in access to the Federation Worlds’ Information Net?" I added as casually as I was able.

"No, I was not aware of that."

His voice was calm, controlled, and didn’t tell me a damn thing. I felt like I was taking two steps back for every three forward against the pull that was drawing us inexorably together.

I was getting damned sick of fighting it.

The bottom of the pool suddenly was very inviting. I headed for it hoping to quell both the erection and the sense of tension between us.

When I surfaced, Spock was floating on the water, arms spread, eyes closed. Crystal pendant gleamed against pale neck, a star held for ransom.

I floated next to him, and fixed my eyes on the sky where they belonged instead of on one lean, practically naked body and how it would look wet, clothed in material that would cling to every curve, reveal every swelling of tender flesh, highlight every…. _Gods!_

"My ship should be ready and waiting for me at the spaceport," I said just to break the silence. "Rigel’s my next stop. I have to be there by the middle of next month to pick up a consignment of Spican flame gems for Benecia."

No answer, and his eyes didn’t open.

"It’s the third planet from that far left star. Oh, about twelve light years from here."

"Twelve point three seven five one light years."

My head turned so fast I gulped water before realizing my mouth was open.

Spock quickly righted himself, pounding my back in concern when I started coughing. "How…how did you know that?" I gasped.

"Are you well?" he asked.

"Yes, I’m fine. How did you know how far it was to Rigel? That’s exactly…I mean, exactly right. I checked it after my last stop."

"I possess a telescope, and whenever I must go to ShiKahr I make certain to allow time to visit the spaceport’s computer information bank. One can triangulate from known—"

"And from Rigel to Septa Beta? How far is that?"

"Twenty to twenty seven point nine light years—"

I shook my head in amazement and started to grin.

"—depending whether one circumnavigates the K’lasta Nebula, or proceeds directly through it."

The grin turned to laughter.

He tilted his bead and finished in a slightly aggrieved tone, "There are advantages to both courses of action."

"I’m not laughing at you," I said still chuckling. "You are unbelievable. You’d make a hell of a navigator."

"I would?"

When I realized how very close we were to each other the laughter died in my throat. The night turned still, holding its breath, while inside my heart slammed hard against my ribs and echoed in my ears. Eyes, dark as the water, dark as the void stared into mine. Eyes so depthless I could fall into them forever and never reach bottom. Eyes to lose one’s soul in.

Perhaps he was a devil after all.

"I happen to be in need of an expert navigator," I said.

"Yet you have managed adequately until now without one," he replied quietly, eyes now soft and gleaming like the stars’ own light.

"Yes, until now." A breath apart. I wanted to kiss him more at that moment than I’d ever wanted anything, even Starfleet, even the stars, and somehow I knew he wanted it, too. I leaned closer.

One of the silver crescent leaves of the domo tree chose that moment to drift down and land lightly on the top of my head. I was reaching up to remove it but he was faster. Lifting the leaf, his hand hesitated for an instant then lightly skimmed my face, lingering for the briefest moment like a caress on temple and cheek and jaw. Under his touch, my skin heated, throbbed, ached for the long fingers to press harder. I lifted my hand to enclose his and turned my face into the warmth.

Quite suddenly, the softness in his eyes vanished behind something that was very close to fear, and he jerked his hand from my face as if it had burned him. His eyes dropped, and when they again rose to meet mine, they were blank and unreadable and told me nothing.

Even before he spoke I knew the moment had slipped away from us and disappeared like mist into the night.

"You are like the tarmesh, James Kirk, wild and free and powerful. You appear out of the darkness and with the dawn the land is changed forever. Nothing is as it was before."

There was both wonder and wariness in the husky, breathless whisper.

The water felt abruptly cold to my hot body. "You like to stand out in the tarmesh, Spock of Vulcan. Remember?"

_I should have kissed him when I had the chance_.

"You know I’m suddenly very tired. Let’s go back, okay?" I headed for shore, the sound of Spock’s slow strokes following after.

Spock disappeared behind a bush to change, as I tried to stuff one wet body into my clothes as fast as possible. "At least I found out what Vulcans wear under their robes," I called out, masking my disappointment with the light banter.

"As I told you," his voice floated out of the darkness, "this is a sleeping garment. Vulcans are…buck naked…under their robes."

I tried to put both legs into one pants’ leg and fell on my wet ass.

We slipped into the dark house as quietly as possible, but evidently not quietly enough. When we were standing right outside the door to my room an upstairs light went on and there Sarek stood, wearing one of the white outfits, hair unbound and disheveled, at the top of the second story landing.

"Father, I regret we have awakened you," said Spock.

Sarek ignored his son and looked directly at me. "So, you are back."

"Hello, Sarek." I met his stare with my own cool one.

"Why?"

Spock slowly looked from one of us to the other, acknowledging but not quite figuring out the undercurrents of the silent conversation his father and I were having. "There was a small problem in ShiKahr, Father. It was not safe for him to remain. Our guest will be staying several more days," he finished firmly.

He turned to me. "I will see you in the morning," he said and started up the stairs.

The old man didn’t miss a thing. His eyes scanned the bruise on my face, took in my abraded hand, glared at my clothes. "You have been fighting, and you are wet," he pronounced.

I glanced once at Spock’s back then met Sarek’s eyes head on. I wasn’t feeling particularly chipper myself, but I couldn’t help the small smile. "We’ve been skinny-dipping in the pond, Sarek," Spock stopped dead on the stairs, "but don’t worry, Spock didn’t do the ‘skinny’ part." Spock carefully kept his eyes focused on the landing wall, went on past his father and disappeared from sight.

"Goodnight, Sarek," I said sweetly to the raised gray eyebrow, and entered my room.

The next morning I rose with Vulcan’s twin suns, dressed in the jeans and shirt, and ravenous with hunger headed for the kitchen. There Sarek sat as if he’d been waiting through the night, hands folded together on the worn wood table. "You should not have come back," he said without preamble.

My appetite abruptly fled, but I wasn’t going to let him see that. Casually I helped myself to a cup of t’lax’ta. "Good morning to you, too. Did Spock tell you what happened in ShiKahr?"

"He did."

"Well, then—"

"He is neither a child nor incapable of self-protection, James Kirk. You should not have interfered."

I fixed him with my best glare. "You weren’t there," I said evenly. "You didn’t see it."

The gray eyes bored into mine with piercing intensity, and for the first time I thought about what Spock’s mother must have looked like. The deep black/brown warmth of his eyes must have come from her, for they owed no allegiance to Sarek’s brittle gray fire.

"You do not belong here, you with your golden whore’s suit, and your loose morals."

So, finally all the cards were out on the table. "You’re very sure of your facts, Sarek."

"I see you are attracted to Spock and am neither blind nor as naïve as my son."

I didn’t bother to deny any of it. "Have you spoken to Spock about this?"

"No. I have no need. You believe when you go, Spock will go with you. He will not."

"Whether he goes or stays is for Spock to decide, isn’t it, Sarek?" I answered coolly, trying to get a grip on my rising temper.

"No, it is not," he replied evenly. "He is needed here, and the needs of the many—"

"—Oppress and stifle the needs of the one."

"There are things here you do not understand, nor would you accept them if you did. I know your kind."

Carefully I placed the cup dawn untasted. "Oh, and what…exactly what…is my kind?"

"Human, James Kirk. Like the others who come to rape our planet. Violence lives in your mind like a radiant ember, wanting only a solitary wisp of breeze to fan the flames. I will not allow your rampant fire to destroy my son."

I slammed my hands dawn on the table and leaned over until we were bare centimeters apart. It was only when I saw the satisfied curl of the stern lips that I realized I’d given truth to his accusation. "The only destroying that’s going an here, old man, is what you and this targ dung about ‘the needs of the many’ is doing to Spock. What about his needs? His desires?" I took a deep breath. There was no answer. I didn’t expect one. "Where is he, Sarek?"

I had to give the old man credit; he didn’t retreat a hair. One silver eyebrow rose in ironic amusement, and I was the one who backed off. "Where is he?" I asked again, this time as quietly as I could manage.

"He is not presently at home. Perhaps you might find him at the top of the rise before the house. He often goes there when he wishes to think." He nodded over his shoulder at the room that opened off the kitchen.

So damned sure of himself. So certain that no matter what I thought or said or did it wouldn’t change Spock’s ultimate decision. What he said about my destroying Spock, I put to the ramblings of a possessive and jealous old man and could dismiss easily. What I couldn’t dismiss as I matched Sarek’s cold glare, was the calm assertion that nothing I could do would be effectual. It gave me the same sinking feeling in my guts I remembered so well from that final meeting in Dean Richardson’s office.

How much of the last few years had really mattered to me? How many times had I just drifted from one set of circumstances to another? How many times had I let destiny control me instead of molding it to my own ends?

Now I found it mattered. Whether he was with me or not, what happened to Spock mattered a lot.

Somewhere deep inside I found something I had lost a long time ago. The sad thing was I hadn’t even known it was gone.

When I looked back at the old man’s face I found I had to raise my eyes to meet his steady glare. But meet it I did. "There are always alternatives, Sarek," I said.

I quickly passed through the modestly furnished living room. The only distinguishing feature was some sort of fireshire imparting a reddish glow to a side wall of the room. Beyond it was the front door.

The first sun was already up when it closed behind me, the second just making its appearance above a slight rise in the land ahead. It was already hot and getting hotter by the minute. I squinted into the sudden light and began to climb.

At the top of the rise I spotted him easily, long black plait against dull gray robe standing out from red clay-like soil. The colors were so sharp and clear in the early morning light. He was kneeling before a white stone, and it took a minute before I realized just what it was. A single solitary grave.

I walked up quietly behind him, and although he neither moved nor spoke I knew somehow he had heard me.

Crossing to the other side, I hunkered down so I could watch his face across the mound. Close up I saw that he wasn’t kneeling precisely, more sitting back on his heels, hands lightly clasped together in his lap. Dark eyes stared at the stone, so that’s where I looked, too. Amanda Grayson, it said. Under the name were two lines of Vulcan script and the dates in Standard of her birth and death. Only thirty-five when she died eight years ago.

"Who was she?" I asked

"My mother."

"But that’s a…."

"Human name. Yes, she was Human."

One long-fingered hand rose to touch the curving Vulcan letters. "This is our clan name. This says, ‘Wife to Sarek’ and this ‘Mother to Spock’."

I moved my fingers over the last part. "Is this your name?"

He placed his hand over mine and moved it slightly to the left.

"This symbol here," he said.

His hand dropped back into his lap. Cold without his touch, I lingered there a moment longer over his name on the warm stone before I did the same.

The simple mound with its white marker looked so lonely there amidst the red ground of a world so different from the green of home. "She’s buried alone."

"Vulcans return their dead to the desert from where we came, but it was not her way. We honored her customs."

"It must have been hard for her, a Human on your world."

His eyes met mine, dark, unfathomable. "At times, but there were compensations."

I imagined what Spock must have been like as a child. Like Senek maybe, but freer with his emotions. "I’ll bet you were the main one. You must have given her great pleasure."

He didn’t respond, and I looked back at the stone. "She was very young when she died. You had to have been just a kid."

"I was fifteen Standard years old."

"How did she happen to come to Vulcan?" Sarek was definitely too provincial to go looking off-world for a wife.

He nodded gravely. "She was but seventeen when she came. Her father was a purveyor of mining equipment, and she assisted him in his work. He…disapproved of her choice of husband, but when her father left, she stayed. They were married in the Human tradition soon after."

"How did she meet Sarek?" I asked, curious to discover what could have made an Earth woman agree to marry the humorless man that was Spock’s father.

His eyes returned to the stone. "I have told you that at one time there was more interaction between our peoples. Amanda also gave lessons in Earth Standard. My father thought that Sybok would profit from—"

"Sybok?"

His gaze lowered to the ground then rose again, but I could see the subject was clearly an uncomfortable one to deal with.

"Sarek had been bonded before. A Vulcan woman. She died and he was left to raise my half-brother, Sybok, alone."

"I didn’t know you had a brother. I’d like to meet him."

"He has been…." Spock stopped, bit his lip, the first time I’d known him to do that, and started again. "He is…presently off-world. I…I do not know where. I do not even know if he is still alive." Something in the set of his mouth, the faint tightening of his jaw told me not to pursue it.

"So they met, married and had you."

He nodded, relieved I had left it alone.

"And they were happy…at least for a little while."

"For a while?" One eyebrow rose, and I was sorry I had brought up something that was obviously unpleasant, and gave myself a mental kick in the ass.

"I mean…well, they must have fought and…."

A glint of amusement danced in his eyes. "Why would you come to that conclusion?"

I swear the man was laughing at me. "Well, with Sarek’s dislike of outworlders, I naturally thought…."

The amusement in his eyes abruptly winked out.

"You were mistaken in that assumption," he said with a note of asperity in his voice, but there was a great deal of pain behind it.

"I’m sorry if I said something out of line. I didn’t mean to upset you."

Immediately the stern glance softened. "I know you did not." He blinked and swallowed. "I have never known two people who cared more for each other than my parents. One day they traveled to ShiKahr. My father went to tend to several errands. While he was gone, a street brawl broke out between some miners. A phaser was drawn. My mother was caught in the crossfire."

"Spock…."

"The phaser was set on heavy stun, but she was too close." His eyes bored into mine. "She died in the street in my father’s arms."

"Gods, Spock. Oh, gods, I’m sorry." My eyes flew back to the date on the stone. "Eight years ago, and that’s when…."

"Yes. The Council of Elders decreed that we renounce all contact with out-worlders and return to the old ways."

I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat. "I’m so sorry." It seemed to be the only thing I could say. Such banal words. Such deep pain.

Spock took a long breath, released it in a sigh. You see why I cannot go with you."

Our eyes met over his mother’s grave.

"I haven’t asked you," I said softly.

"You would have."

A time for truth then. "Yes," I nodded. "I would have." My turn to take a deep breath. "I could stay here." My words shocked the hell out of both of us.

His eyes stayed riveted to mine even while the ebony head pivoted slowly from side to side. "You need your stars too much to be contented for long and…."

"And…" I prompted, although I was suddenly sure I didn’t want to hear any more.

"Sarek has lost both son and bondmate. I am all he has left. He deserves to have a grandchild like Senek to whom he can tell the old stories, whom he can watch grow to maturity, whom he can spoil with the season’s first zek’a’kels."

"And whom I certainly can’t produce for him," I completed.

"Vulcan’s population is low. One has a duty—"

"Hell, nobody said we would be together forever." But even as I said it I knew that _Spock_ and _forever_ fit together like living and breathing.

Spock seemed shaken by the bald statement. A laugh forced its way up my dry throat. A bitter one, I’ll admit, but it wasn’t everyday I laid my heart open and had it tromped on.

"I have to hand it to your father, though. He said you wouldn’t go for it. That old ‘needs of the many’ thing again. And you’re right, of course, I can’t see staying on this dust bowl of a planet longer than I have to. Wouldn’t have worked between us anyway." I shrugged, stood up and turned my back to him. "It was just mutual physical attraction."

"Do not…."

"It was mutual, wasn’t it?"

"James Kirk…."

Quickly I spun around. "Wasn’t it?" I demanded.

The expression on his face was as serene as always, but there was something hurting in his eyes.

"You know it was."

I nodded and turned back. "I’ll get my things together and walk to town."

I started down the hill back towards the house.

"I would go with you if I were free to do so."

There was no way I was going to let that pass. I stopped and faced him. "Let me tell you something, Spock. Freedom, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder."

"What will you do?"

"What will I do? Why, what I’ve always done. I’ve managed just fine on my own up until now. Too bad, though, you really would have made one hell of a great navigator."

"If you needed one."

"I don't…." Suddenly it seemed hard to get the words out, but I did because I had to. "I don’t need anybody."

"It is far too hot for you to walk to town, and the heat will only increase as the day progresses. You are in no condition to attempt such a feat. I must stand witness to T’Van and Storet’s bonding ceremony. It will continue until evening. By then it will be cooler, and I will drive you."

"Under the circumstances—"

"You _have_ been invited."

"Spock—"

He took a step closer. Those damn eyes of his.

"Please," he said.

_What the hell were we playing at?_

"All right," I said, and knew I shouldn’t have.

*********

The ride in the hooded carriage to the place Spock called Koon-ut-kalifee was mostly silent. Strange how different silences could be. Spock was stiff with his. I was angry in mine. And Sarek? Sarek was smug and self-righteous all at the same time.

When we finally stopped the carriage in the middle of the damn desert, there wasn’t a building in sight. Just a ring of standing stones like grasping fingers thrust up from a grave of red desert sand. Ancient by the looks of them. On a slight rise nearby was a group of low cliffs. I don’t know what I expected, but whatever it was this wasn’t it.

We left the carriage with a group of similar ones under the watchful eye of a Vulcan boy who could hardly have been more than ten, and silently filed into the ring to take our places with many others against the stones. It appeared we were the last to arrive. In the middle stood a firepit and a standing gong on a platform. A young man, dressed in a black robe with silver at the neck and wrists and silver Vulcan letters down the front stood silently on the platform. Storet.

As I watched, he seemed to sway slightly and I noticed a thin sheen of perspiration break out on his forehead.

"He’s ill," I whispered to Spock. "He shouldn’t be here."

"He is not ill."

"But he’s sweating and—"

"Shh."

"But Vulcans don’t sweat."

"Shh."

Taking a mallet from its hook on the stand, the bridegroom hit the gong several times. A lonely sound. It echoed throughout the ring forcing a shiver up my spine.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up, and the smell of blood rose to—

"Are you well?" Spock’s hands were gripping my arms, and as his concerned eyes looked into mine the disturbing sensations vanished.

"I'm fine. The heat must have gotten to me for a minute, that’s all. I’m all right, Spock. Really."

"Do you wish to leave?"

I noticed his face was pale. Concern over me? Or something else? "No, I’ll stay."

He nodded and released me.

All at once people turned towards an opening among the stones, but it was a moment before my less acute hearing picked up the sound of bells. Soon a procession entered the ring led by an old woman carried in a sedan chair by four bearers. She was stooped, frail, wizened and the most imposing figure I had ever seen. The resemblance to Spock and his father was all too apparent. This had to be T’Pau, the matriarch of Spock’s people. The bearers placed the chair down and stepped back.

She glanced once in my direction, then dismissed me from her thoughts. I could see her do it.

Behind the chair stood a young woman. Beautiful, with exquisite exotic features, but I almost didn’t notice her. A candle held against the sun of the old woman’s power.

Storet hung up the mallet and stumbled as he descended from the platform. No one moved to help him. Crossing the sand, he slipped to his knees before T’Pau. One bony hand rose to land on the young man’s face, to spread over brow and cheek and jaw. The position was familiar, but it took me a minute to remember why. _The pool. And Spock’s warm hand on my face._

These people were telepathic.

I, like most Humans, found the idea of another presence in my mind pretty damn near obscene. I glanced at Spock, but found the expression there closed. Shuttered.

I turned back to watch as T’Pau’s hand dropped from Storet’s face. He rose, swaying slightly on his feet, and at a guttural command from T’Pau turned and walked to the platform. Taking up the mallet once again, he struck it a resounding blow. T’Van walked to his side. She removed the mallet from his fingers and also hit the gong. No one spoke. No one moved. No one even breathed hard, so I don’t know how I knew it, but the feeling of relief from the crowd was almost palpable.

Both Vulcans now descended the platform to kneel before T’Pau. With one hand on each face, she closed her eyes. Again I looked at Spock. This time his face told a different story. Wistful. Hungry. Whatever it was that was happening between T’Van and Storet through T’Pau, Spock wanted it. As much as anyone had ever wanted anything, he wanted that.

When T’Pau released them, both Vulcans stood. As one they turned to each other, extended their fingers as I had seen Stavar and T’Lea do, and touched. His shoulders sagged infinitesimally. Hers straightened. For a long moment they just looked at each other.

I’d never been in love, but I knew enough to recognize it when I saw it. What passed between them was what love looked like.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have someone in your mind if you…if you loved them.

T’Van led Storet from the ring. The ceremony was over.

Folded tables and benches were brought in, and within minutes the ring of stones was transformed into a wedding reception. Men, women and children of various ages helped bring in food and the tables were quickly set. Stavar and T’Lea were helping at another table across the far end of the ring. They sent a nod of acknowledgment in my direction. I returned it. Almost everyone but the very youngest wore the pendant, and I wondered why Sarek didn’t wear one.

I hadn’t known how hungry I was until Spock guided me to the end of one long table, and we sat down to platters of various cheese, plates of varied colored fruits and vegetables, salads of all sorts and loaves of a dark, crusty bread made from revna.

I steered clear of the plomeek soup.

Spock introduced me to the people at our end of the table, one of whom was Stonn who sat on Spock’s other side. He was the only one at the table who didn’t wear one of the pendants. As I ate, I became aware of those same undercurrents I had noticed when many of these same Vulcans had appeared at Spock’s farm to clear the irrigation ditches. Curiosity from some, hostility from others. At first I thought it was mostly directed at me, but then I began to see that it also extended to Spock. It wasn’t anything overt. Nothing I could put my finger on. It was more in the way their glances didn’t land directly on him but shifted between the both of us.

After a few minutes, Spock excused himself to speak with a group of people standing in the shade of one of the huge stones. I watched him walk away, the sway of the thick plait of hair down his back matching the slight swing of his hips under the gray robe, then turned my attention back to my food. Found I wasn’t as hungry as I thought I was.

Abruptly I left the table, made my way across the large area and finally stopped when I was at the opening between the stones directly across the wide ring from where Spock stood. Ahead were the monochromatic red tones of desert, sky, sloping hill of rock and emptiness, and if the desert, sky and rock weren’t familiar, at least the emptiness was. Must have been five minutes I stood there and looked out at nothing when a slight tug on my shirt drew my attention down.

There stood Senek, and behind him a little girl holding a ball of white fluff in her arms.

"Hello, Senek."

"Live long and prosper, Guest Kirk."

The little girl obviously found me as fascinating as Senek had from the way she stared at my face. She was a miniature version of T’Van and T’Lea. All big dark eyes, upswept brows, and coiled braid of shining black hair. "Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend, Senek?" I said, and realized I would have to amend that when the white ball of fluff moved in the child’s arms. "Er, friends?"

"This is T’Sarra. T’Sarra, I present to you my friend, Guest Kirk," he intoned. "From the city."

From the slight emphasis on the last words, I figured that translated as _Human_.

"Live long and prosper, T’Sarra, friend of Senek."

"Peace and long life, Guest Kirk."

The ball of fluff lifted its head to reveal small black eyes, a rounded snout and two fangs that were already a couple of centimeters long. I stroked the silky white head. "And who’s this?"

T’Sarra hugged the small body, and took a step closer. "This is E’fel, my sehlet. She is but two seasons old."

"She’s beautiful, T’Sarra."

She was as solemn as Senek and all the other Vulcan children I had seen, but bright eyes radiated pleasure at the compliment.

Senek turned to her. "See? I told you he was nice even though he was Human."

Maybe that was the way to do it. One Human at a time. Prove to these people that Humans weren’t quite the ogres they thought they were. Then I remembered I wasn’t going to be around long enough to prove anything to anybody.

Senek faced me again. "But she is not my friend, Guest Kirk. T’Sarra is promised to me."

"Promised to you?"

"Yes. As I am to her."

"What does that mean?"

The boy drew himself up. "In two more seasons I will be old enough for the kahswan, and then we will take the pendant, and—"

"The pendant?" A cold shiver ran up my spine. "The pendant that everyone wears?"

Senek took a step back. "Yes," he said a little uncertainly. "It is called a so’ath’ia pendant. It holds the green dorsha stone of betrothal."

"Betrothal," I whispered. The word lay thick and heavy on my tongue, sour at the back of my throat.

"Betrothal, James Kirk." But the voice wasn’t a child’s. I whirled to find T’Pau standing behind me. "Ve do not speak of our customs to outvorlders, Senek." The heavily accented Standard was spoken softly, but carried the ring of authority behind it. Here was a woman who was used to being obeyed.

"Yes, Great-grandmother. I beg forgiveness."

"Thee may go."

Senek gulped once and gathering up T’Sarra with a glance, both children brushed past me and ran into the desert toward the sloping hills.

I turned back to look across the ring. The group of people Spock had gone to speak with had dissipated, but his lean form was easy to spot. His back was turned slightly towards me, and he was talking with a young woman. She moved closer to him out of the shadow of the rock as she responded to something he was saying, and for just a moment the pendant around her neck glittered in the suns’ light.

"Her name is T"Pring." T’Pau’s voice came from behind me. "And she has been promised to S’poch since they vere both but seven of your years."

She was stunningly beautiful.

Her eyes dropped from Spock’s face as he spoke then raised to glance past his shoulder. I followed the direction of her eyes across the ring to where it landed. On Stonn’s face. His unguarded face. His unguarded face on which was the same look Storet and T’Van had given each other.

When I looked back at Spock I found he had turned. Our eyes met and held across the space that separated us.

Blindly I whirled around. Brushed past T’Pau and out into the desert.

I had climbed a small dune and was headed for the low cliffs when he finally caught up to me.

Large hands landed on my shoulders and spun me around. I shook him off.

"Where are you going?"

"To cool off."

"Then it is most illogical to walk out in the desert during the hottest part of the day."

"You could have told me you were engaged, you know. You let me make a fool of myself. Made me think I might have had a chance with you."

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. "It does not mean the same as on your Earth."

"No? ‘Promised to her,’ T’Pau said. Are you promised to her?"

"As she is to me, however—"

"And on your bonding day when you go into her mind, you won’t find what you’re looking for. What you need. She doesn’t love you, Spock." _Not like_ …. "Not like you deserve to be loved. Tell me about Stonn."

"Stonn?"

"He doesn’t wear a pendant. Why?"

"Stonn’s bondmate died in an accident several years ago. Upon the death of one’s mate, one makes a personal decision as to whether one will continue to wear the pendant. Stonn’s bonding was…not satisfactory. He has not yet chosen another."

"Oh yes he has. He’s chosen T’Pring. He’s in love with her. And she with him."

Spock’s long throat moved in a deep swallow, eyes closing briefly, and when they opened they were bleak and empty and the hunger was back. "Love has very little to do with bonding, James Kirk."

"Maybe it should, Spock of Vulcan."

He opened his mouth to reply then closed it abruptly as Senek slithered down the dune behind us, white-faced and gasping for air.

"Cousin Spock!"

"Senek, what is it? What has happened?"

"T’Sarra…she…she…."

Spock grabbed the boy by the shoulders, shook him gently. "Control, Senekkam. Breathe deeply and tell us what has happened."

Senek nodded once and took a deep steadying breath. "We were at the caves when E’fel went inside. There was a grumbling noise. E’fel didn’t come when T’Sarra called her. When we went to look for her—"

"—You have been warned about the caves, Senek."

"Let the boy finish, Spock. Then what happened, Senek?"

"T’Sarra was a few meters ahead of me. She…. There was a loud noise and pieces of the tunnel started falling. I called her, Cousin Spock. I called her and called her, but she did not answer me. I ran to get help."

"You did the right thing, Senek," I said. "Run quickly and get the others. Come on, Spock."

We took off up the hill, Spock running easily at my side, and even though I was worried about the child a part of my mind whispered how natural it was to have him there. As if he’d always been there and always would. I pushed the thought aside and asked about the caves. Played-out dilithium mines, he told me. Abandoned when the ore they’d contained had run out. They dotted this section of the desert.

The cave entrance was intact when we got there, though scattered bits and pieces of dirt and red sand drifted down just inside. Mute testimony that the whole thing was coming down damn soon. The mine tunnel led straight back from the entrance and gave us some light as we ran. Two sets of small footprints going in. One set running out.

The tunnel curved cutting off some of the light. A fallen beam lay diagonally across the tunnel. We had just picked our way across it when Spock slammed me against the cave wall. Covered me with his body. Another beam fell a half-meter past his shoulder as the ceiling groaned and dislodged more sand.

At the end of the short tunnel we could see a dim light ahead and took off after it. The tunnel widened into a larger space, a general loading area by the looks of it, and now we could see why there was light. In a corner, part of the ceiling of the mine had collapsed from far above our heads. If T’Sarra was under the rubble in that part of the enclosure we were already too late.

We glanced at each other and I could see he knew it too. Reading each other perfectly, we spread out to search the area, calling T’Sarra’s name. The groaning of the timbers increased, and from behind us came the sound of more debris falling in the tunnel.

Suddenly I heard a small moan from the area adjacent to the pile of rubble.

"Spock!"

That’s where we found her. A beam had partially fallen trapping the child’s foot, and it must have clipped her head as it fell. A small cut on the side of her forehead oozed green. She moaned and tossed, returning to full consciousness when Spock pried up the part of the beam that wasn’t already buried. Ieased her out, picked her up in my arms.

Just then the one remaining overhead beam in that section tore loose with a loud groan and started to slip. Spock caught it just before it fell. Pushed up. Held it, arms outstretched above his head.

"Spock! Come on! Let the damn thing fall, and let’s get the hell out of here!"

"You will never make it out into the tunnel if I do. This is the one remaining supporting beam." The ceiling moaned once again, red soil falling in thick clods covering Spock’s hair and shoulders. "Take the child and go."

"No. There has to be another way." I looked around for a beam to prop the one he was holding.

There wasn’t any.

"You must! I do not know how much longer I can hold the beam."

A small whimpering cry drew our eyes to where a smudged and very dirty little form was struggling to make its way to where we stood. One of its back legs dangled uselessly.

"E’fel!" T’Sarra cried out and wriggled in my arms. I tightened my grip on her squirming body.

"Take the sehlet as well," he said.

"Damn you, Spock! Is every goddamn life worth more than yours?"

"Please, James Kirk." We both glanced upward as more soil drifted down, and then back to meet each other’s eyes. Impossibly, a small smile tugged up the comers of his mouth. "And speed would not be remiss in this situation," he added.

I muttered the seven curses of Orion’s hell as I quickly laid T’Sarra down, ran to get the cub and thrusting it into her arms, picked her up again.

Past the fallen sleeves of his robe, the tendons of Spock’s arms stood out taut, quivering from the strain. The beam slipped slightly with a wrenching sound. He glanced up then back to my face. "Hurry."

For a moment I saw Spock as he looked last night at the pond. Clean and clear and bathed by the stars. _Spock by starlight_. Thousands of kilos of Vulcan rock were poised to come crashing down on our heads, and all I could think of was how obscene it was that Spock had dirt in his hair. My fingers ached to brush it away. "I'll be back."

"Do not return. I estimate that I will be able to brace the beam for only another three point two minutes. You will be—"

"Hold that beam, Spock. You hold that fucking beam and wait for me!"

I turned and ran for the tunnel.

The clods of red earth were falling faster. I clutched the child tightly, turning her head into my shoulder, maneuvering as quickly as possible through the newly fallen debris towards the dim light where the tunnel bent. The mouth of the cave had partially collapsed, and it took a few more precious seconds to squeeze through and carry the child far enough from the entrance so that if there were a back-blow she wouldn’t be injured.

Then I was on the way back, the floor beneath my feet vibrating with the sounds of the mine dying around me like some gigantic beast in the midst of its death throes. What little light there had been in the tunnel was gone, obscured by the now constant fall of dirt. It was getting hard to breathe with all the dust, but in my mind’s eye Spock’s face stood out. A beacon to follow.

When I entered the larger area, Spock raised his bent head to fix me with a piercing stare, eyes sparking hot with anger. "I told you not to return."

"Save it, my friend. Tell me about it after we’re out of here." I hastily scanned the area, sure I had been mistaken. There had to be at least one fallen beam not covered by debris to brace the one Spock was holding.

I wasn’t mistaken.

The beam slipped another couple of centimeters. We were out of time.

I grabbed Spock around the waist…and pulled. Hard. With a small grunt of surprise his arms came down to land on my shoulders. I yanked him out from under and moved a few paces away. Our eyes flew up to see that miraculously the beam stayed wedged in place.

Still with our arms around each other, I laughed when he turned to me, tilted that elegant head ever so slightly, one dirt-smeared eyebrow crawling up his forehead.

I didn’t laugh long. The next second the beam came crashing down, and the ceiling started to collapse.

Pushing and pulling each other along, we ran as the cavern and then the tunnel collapsed just meters behind us. The beast was angry in its agony, snapping its jaws at our feet, its breath hot and fetid on the back of my neck.

With the entrance in sight I knew we weren’t going to make it. Blessed daylight appeared through the almost completely covered mine opening. _There was space for only one of us to get through_.

I grabbed his arms to push him through the exact same moment he grabbed mine to do the same. With a tremendous roar the rest of the cave collapsed, a back-blow of expelled air sending us plowing through the blocked entrance. We landed hard on our sides and skittered along the ground. I tucked his head into my shoulder. He brought his arms up to protect my head.

The last few rocks and clods of earth hit our backs, and then there was silence. It was over. The whole thing couldn’t have taken ten minutes. It felt like ten hours.

Shakily, we released each other. Got to our feet.

Spock was bruised, filthy, disheveled. Spock was beautiful. Finally giving into the impulse I brushed some of the dirt from his hair. Slid my hand down to smooth away a small trickle of blood from a cut on an angled cheek. "You okay?"

Solemnly he nodded. "And you?"

My body ached in more places than I knew I _had_ places, my throat and chest stung from the dust, my shoulder hurt from the hard impact with the rocks and stony ground. Grinning, I told him the truth. "I feel wonderful."

We turned as one, walked to where T’Sarra lay clutching her pet, observing our approach out of huge eyes in a pinched, pale face.

I watched as Spock knelt by the child’s side. As his long, gentle fingers examined her head and ankle. As he reassured with soft, murmured words.

After a few moments he rose, turned to me. "The injuries appear to be minor. A twisted and abraded ankle. The sehlet’s leg is broken but will heal."

"Good."

He gnawed at his lower lip briefly, blinked once, swallowed. "You came back for me."

"You would have done the same for me."

"Why would you do this?"

_How to answer? Because you are beautiful_. _And gentle_. _And kind_. _Because I’ve never met anyone as innately good as you_ are _in my whole life_. _Because I have to know that somewhere in this universe you’re_ _alive_. "Because the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many."

"It was not logical."

"No, probably not."

He chewed that one over for a minute. I thought maybe it was time to banish that look of confusion from his eyes. "So what do you think? We worked pretty well together, wouldn’t you say?"

"I would say I found the experience…." An eyebrow disappeared into dust-streaked bangs, eyes grew wide. He searched for the proper word and discovered it, much to his surprise. "It was… _fascinating_."

"Just what I would expect from someone who hasn’t the sense to come in out of a tarmesh. Besides, I knew we weren’t in any real danger."

"You did?"

"Sure," I smiled. "You’re too damn stubborn to have let that beam fall."

He looked at me in utter shock, eyes glittering with amusement, then strong hands gripped my arms. And he made that sound that warmed me straight through to my toes. Spock threw back his head and laughed.

Out of the comer of my eye, I noticed the others making their way up the rise to where we stood. "Er…Spock."

"S’poch! Compose thyself!"

He whirled, the laughter dying on his lips, to look straight into T’Pau’s forbidding face. Sarek stood at her shoulder. Quickly he released me. Stepped back.

_Sudden cold where his hands had been_. _Cold where his body had moved away from mine_. _Cold as the warmth of his laughter faded_.

A young man and woman moved rapidly from the crowd to T’Sarra’s side. A second later Stavar joined them to bend down and examine the child. Their low voices sounded loud against the silence of the others and the chill of T’Pau’s unremittingly cold stare. The man carefully picked up T’Sarra. The woman held the sehlet. Although their faces revealed no shred of emotion, I could read the concern in their eyes and in the way the man tightly gripped the child’s body closely to his chest. T’Sarra’s parents.

"Stavar, take the child for treatment," T’Pau said. She never took her eyes from Spock’s face as the healer herded the family down the hill.

"Hast thee forgotten thy training so completely, S’poch?"

"No, T’Pau, but—"

"Is it logical to risk two lives for the sake of one?" Soft voice. Neutronium underneath.

"I…I…."

"Thee sees, Sarek? Thee sees the result of error compounded? First, disregard for the principles of logic. Second, rampant emotionalism. Third—"

"—Grandmother, I have not—"

"—Third, resistance to correction."

I moved forward past Spock’s taut body. "Hey, hold on a min—"

Her piercing stare turned in my direction. "Silence, outvorlder. Keep thy place. This does not concern thee."

"The hell it doesn’t!"

Spock took a step closer to my side. "Please, James Kirk—"

"No, Spock. Not this time." I matched T’Pau’s glare with one of my own. "That child would have _died_ if it hadn’t been for Spock."

"Do not presume to question vhat thee cannot possibly understand."

I clenched my hands into fists and fought to keep them at my sides. "Spock’s the bravest, the kindest, the most compassionate man I’ve ever known. He’s the best your people have to offer, and if you can’t see that, you don’t damn well deserve him!"

Her head tilted slightly in a bird-like gesture so reminiscent of Spock. Crow-black eyes scanned down my body, took in the clenched fists, and by her haughty stare drew every other eye to the evidence of my anger. I forced my hands to open, to relax limply against my sides, but when her eyes rose to meet mine, triumph shone clearly from their depths.

She turned back to Spock, dismissing me with a last contemptuous glance. And I let her.

Spock stepped between us. "He is not to blame for my perceived faults, Grandmother."

"No. It was thy father who first brought the Human taint among us, and vhile he has returned to Surak’s vays, thee obviously hast not."

Sarek’s face darkened. "You are speaking of she-who-was-my-wife."

"Be still, Sarek. Thee may have considered her as such but by our laws she vas not. Now I am speaking to thy son. Decide, S’poch. Art thee Vulcan, or art thee Human?"

It had the ring of an often repeated question, and as I watched Spock’s face turn ashen and all expression disappear, I knew it was one he had heard many times. Many different ways. Maybe from the time he was born. Now the looks I had seen on the other faces made sense. They were looking to see how much of my humanity lay buried in Spock. And Sarek and Amanda had been legally married but not bonded in the Vulcan way, so he was considered a bastard as well as everything else he’d had to endure.

He stood there a moment longer then whirled, moved down the rise and strode off into the desert.

T’Pau and the others turned, walked away.

I started to go after him when a heavy grip descended on my shoulder.

"Let him go, James Kirk. He requires time alone to regain control."

I shrugged off Sarek’s restraining hand. "Seems to me he’s been alone too much."

"Perhaps, but you cannot help him now."

"I didn’t notice you rushing to his defense, old man."

"That is correct. T’Pau would only have used any protestations to further wound my son."

At that I turned, but Sarek’s eyes were fixed on Spock’s rapidly diminishing figure. For the first time I saw the pain he carried, the resignation that accompanied it, the love he bore his son, and the large part of Spock that he didn’t understand and never would even though he loved him.

"This isn’t the first time Spock has shown his Human half and been rebuffed for it, is it, Sarek?"

"No. It is a pattern that repeats. Spock’s control has always been tenuous at best."

"I don’t understand you people. Surely you know T’Sarra would have died if Spock hadn’t—"

"—You also risked your life. Spock allowed you to risk your life."

"Nobody _allows_ meto do anything, Sarek. That’s what freedom is. I make my own decisions."

"Most of which are obviously ill considered." Gray eyes surveyed me with infuriating calmness. "You are correct when you say you do not understand. To Vulcans all life is sacred. Short of endangering any being, T’Pau would have done everything possible to extricate the child."

"After the fact."

"Even before the death of my wife, T’Pau disapproved of contact with outworlders, yet she would have disregarded her own edicts, even going so far as to travel to ShiKahr seeking their help to rescue T’Sarra."

"By then it would have been too late."

"Better one life lost than many risked."

"Tell that to T’Sarra’s parents."

"There was a time I questioned T’Pau’s beliefs. I do so no longer, and my association with you has but strengthened my conviction she is correct."

"You want Spock to deny half of what he is. No being can survive that! It’s wrong to demand it. It’s not even logical."

"He must!"

It was the most passionate statement I’d ever heard the old man make, and when he turned to me, fear, like a malevolent fever, burned from the steel-gray eyes.

_"V’nish’ kar' neh_. _"_ He fairly spat the word.

"What does that mean?"

A deep breath. A long pause. The fire faded from the old man’s eyes as he turned back to watch his son’s retreating form. "What T’Pau does, she does for Spock’s sake."

"She has a hell of a funny way of showing it."

" _This_ is Spock’s world. _Here_ is where he must make his life. Our laws are _his_ laws, and he must conform to them, but…there have been times I think that I did my son a disservice in allowing him to be born. There has been much pain in his life."

_Something in you died that day in ShiKahr along with Amanda, didn’t it, old man? And after that you hadn’t the heart to fight your own battles, much less those of your son_. I watched Spock walk into the desert, tension so evident in the bunched muscles of his back. Long powerful strides. But his head was up, and he didn’t run. _He didn’t run_. Iwas proud of him for that.

"What makes you so damn sure I can’t ease his pain?"

"The question is, James Kirk, what makes you so damn sure you can?"

I thought back to how I had handled the confrontation with T’Pau, and realized with a sour feeling in my stomach that the old man was right.

Spock walked farther into the desert, so alone in all that vastness.

"I made it worse for him today, didn’t I?"

Sarek didn’t answer me.

He didn’t have to.

*****

Sarek offered to take me into town, but there was no way I was leaving before I knew Spock was all right.

That night I lit the lamp and placed it in the window of my room. Paced. Worried. Paced some more. Waited for him to come home.

He never did.

*****

When first sun was just a red glow at the horizon, I stretched muscles still stiff and aching from yesterday’s little disagreement with this world. Vulcan didn’t appear to like me any more than I liked it. I told myself how much better off we’d both be with a dozen light years between us.

I took a look at the bathroom, but the small basin was totally inadequate to the amount of dirt I had collected.

The house was night quiet when I left, heading for the pond. Five minutes to clean up then I was going out after him, and Sarek be damned.

First sun had barely lightened the sky when I got there…and saw him. Spock, freshly washed, calf-deep in the water. Back presented to me. Naked.

The light of a new morning touched the shining crown of black that was his hair. Slid with a lover’s touch across the broad shoulders, down the muscled back, past the narrow waist. Caressed the drops of water that, falling from the end of the dark braid dripped into the secret hollow between his buttocks.

And I cursed the light that touched what I could not.

I must have made a sound. A groan or a sigh. Or perhaps he just heard the blood pounding madly through my heart, for he whirled, hands immediately moving to cover his genitals.

We looked at each other’s faces while Vulcan spun in its orbit. Somewhere stars were born and died and eons, eternities, and a second passed…then he lifted his hands away to fall back against his sides. Open. Offering.

Stumbling, I waded through the water until I stood before him. A ray of newly risen light caught in the pendant’s crystal facets, blinding me for a moment, but I forced my eyes up and into a face more vulnerable than any I had ever seen.

"You _do_ know what I want."

"Yes."

"You’ve changed your mind then. Why?"

"Perhaps it is because you smile at me." One hand rose, landed with a feather light touch on my forehead, brushed the matted strands from my face. "Perhaps it is because your hair is bright as the suns’ light." Warm fingers lingered there a moment and then fell back to his side. Perhaps it is merely because I wish to stand in the tarmesh once again."

"Spock…."

"There are such…colors within you. Before you came I lived my life in shades of black and white and had not known it."

Lifting the pendant I held the crystal carefully, the back of my hand warm against his body’s heat, fighting the impulse to rip it from his throat. One small tug would have broken the delicate chain. But of course I didn’t. I didn’t have that right. So I did what I could. I slid it slowly across the slender neck, keeping my hand in contact with his bare skin and around behind his back where neither of us would have to acknowledge its reality.

"Undo the braid," I said, my voice harsh, caustic as lye in my throat. It wasn’t a request. It was an order. He obeyed it. Not seductively. Not brazenly. Deliberately, and with the same measured grace he gave to any task to which he devoted his attention.

Lacing both hands in that liquid, black splendor of hair, I drew us together.

Fine lashes lay spiked on pale, olive-tinged skin as he closed his eyes. Soft lips parted under mine, yielding their heated sweetness. Lush and hot and wet, he gave himself to me. The knowledge that I could lead him to the bank, lay him down and in the dawning light of a new day, enter him, take him…the knowledge that he _wanted_ me to, left me weak-kneed and shaking.

We broke apart. "You don’t know anything about me."

"I know that you would risk your life to save a child. That you came back for me. That you defended me where none had done so before." Defiance flared in the suddenly tight muscles of cheek and jaw. "I know everything I need to know."

Into the space between our bodies, he raised his hand. Held it poised before my face. Sure. Steady. Into his eyes came that look of yearning I had seen at the ring of standing stones. And now I knew why I had recognized it. It was the look of impossible hopes, of dreams that you dare to dream only in the very secret, hidden places in your soul.

Finally I understood what he was really offering. Not just a mere physical joining, but all of himself. Spock’s body and Spock’s soul. Spock’s mind and Spock’s heart. For now. For always. Forever.

Something inside me twisted and died. It was an offer I had to refuse. I wasn’t what he needed, and when he looked into my mind he’d find I wasn’t what he wanted either.

A being can’t long survive stripped of every layer of self-protective skin, and I watched the hope fade from his eyes as his hand began to tremble, long fingers curling in on themselves as he started to turn away.

I caught his hand between my own before he could lower it. Brought it to my mouth. Kissed the open palm and laid it against the side of my face. Just once. Just so I would be able to remember what it was like to almost have it all. Then I let him go and stepped away. Because when you finally love someone you want to offer everything.

_But what could I offer you? All the times I turned left when I should have turned right? But oh, my love, what use are broken dreams and what might have been?_

"Good-bye, Spock."

I turned and started back toward the house.

"James Kirk…. Wait."

I moved a little faster.

"James…. Please…."

_What,_ I wondered, _was the color of shame?_

_"JIM!"_

In the end, he was braver than I was. I ran.

*****

When I returned to the house, I found the phaser just where I had left it on top of the dresser. Tucked it into the pocket of my jeans. Where I was headed, I’d need it. Turning for the door, I remembered there was one last piece of business to take care of so I opened the dresser drawer. Took out one tight-fitting, golden whore’s suit.

It didn’t belong in Spock’s house. It didn’t belong in Spock’s life. I bunched it up under my arm and left.

An hour on the road back to ShiKahr, a passing aircar slowed down when I stuck out my thumb. An engineer heading back to the city after scouting possible mining sites. He almost didn’t stop when he took a look at the state of my clothes, the dirt on my face and hands. "Lucky for you I happened along," he said.

"The story of my life," I replied. "I’ve always been a lucky bastard."

He gave me a sharp look at the tone of my voice.

The bar was empty of customers that time of day. Just Ephram pottering around, restocking the shelves with bottles.

"Well, well. Look who decided to return. Good thing, too. I was just about to throw your junk out on the street."

Ephram never knew how close he came to losing a couple of teeth. I fought the urge to smash out at something. But what the hell. I climbed the stairs to my room without answering. I was what I was long before Ephram came into the picture.

I lay on the bed watching day slip into evening. Watching T'Kuht, Vulcan’s huge sister world peer over the windowsill and spread her fingers of light across the floor.

When I could hear the noise from downstairs, I finally rose and showered. In water as hot as I could stand. For a long time. A very long time. It didn’t help.

I put on the gold suit. It was ripped and stiff with blood at the shoulder and along the side. There were other clothes to wear, but this fit just fine. Attaching the phaser at the small of my back, Iwas ready.

It got very quiet in the bar as I walked down the stairs and across the room.

Against the far wall sat a thick-set miner, a mean son of a bitch I had always previously avoided. Sober, I doubted whether he’d be a threat to anybody. Trouble was he was never sober. Just what I was looking for. Narrowed eyes watched my approach.

"Interested in some company?"

The miner took a long scan down my body. Past the rips. Past the blood. Stopped at my crotch and stayed there.

"Ain’t got no credits," he said, the tone halfway between a whine and a growl. "Goddamn bastards over there cheated me at poker." He glowered fleetingly at a group in the comer.

"Well then, this is your lucky day. My treat."

That brought both his head and his cock up. "Oh, yeah? What we celebratin’?"

I picked up his half-full glass. Downed it. "Freedom," I said.

"My name’s—"

"—Don't tell me. I don’t want to know."

"All right." Thick lips spread in a smile over teeth stained with a heavy layer of jezra smoke as he stood up. "Here’s to freedom," he said and reached for me. Grasping my arm, he pulled me across his body. One meaty hand held me firmly across the chest while the other groped my balls. An insistent prick probed the crack of my ass. His mouth nuzzled my neck. Trying not to gag at the stench of cheap liquor and decayed teeth, I closed my eyes.

"Release him!"

_That voice_.

I opened my eyes to the one person I thought to see again only in my dreams.

There he stood, gray robe disheveled, a smear of something black and greasy marring one high cheekbone. Hair loose and wild around his shoulders. Eyes hot and steady and boring into mine.

_Damn you for seeing this_. "Spock, I don’t need you to rescue me. I don’t need anyone. Turn around and get out of here."

"Illogical, since it is for you I have come."

He obviously needed it shoved in his face. "Take a good look. Open your eyes, and take a really good look, Spock. Is _this_ what you want to see when you look into my mind? I’m a whore. It happened a long time ago when I sold out on my dreams, I just didn’t know it. Do yourself a favor and go back to your nice little Vulcan woman, your nice little Vulcan life."

The miner raised his head. "You heard him, Vulcan. Now get out before you get your skirt dirty." He returned his attention to my neck.

Spock ignored him. "Your tense is incorrect, Jim."

"What?"

"Perhaps you _were_ a whore. You are one no longer."

"Oh, yeah? When did I stop?"

"I believe it was the day I first saw and fell in love with you, now please gather your things together so we may leave."

I started to go to him. Stupid move, since I seemed to have forgotten there was a hand enclosing my balls. It tightened. I winced.

The heat in Spock’s eyes flamed to fire, and before I could blink he had crossed the space between us. Both hands wrapped around the miner’s neck, and lifted the burly body from the floor. Suddenly holding on to me was less important than grasping Spock’s arms in an effort to avoid being strangled. His feet kicked out at Spock’s legs with the same effect they would have had on durosteel.

One of the men at a nearby table rose, picked up his chair. I grabbed for my phaser, aimed and flicked it on in a single motion. "Touch him, and I swear it’ll be the last thing you ever do."

The chair went back down on the floor.

Keeping the phaser ready, I laid a hand on Spock’s rock hard shoulder. "Let him go."

No answer. The miner’s face was turning a very unappetizing shade of red, beady eyes bulging, mouth opening wide in the attempt to breathe.

"Spock, I’m all right. Let him go."

"He is not worthy of your concern."

"Maybe not, but you are, and there are alternatives. Now let him go before you kill him."

That seemed to get through. Spock swallowed heavily, blinked once, and I watched the fire fade. He opened his hands.

The miner fell to the floor, gasping for air in harsh, shuddering breaths. The thick neck bore the unmistakable imprint of long narrow fingers.

Pushing Spock ahead of me, I eased us toward the door. Kept my finger on the firing stud in case anyone had any ideas about stopping us. Apparently no one cared enough to want to try. The fact that I held a fully charged phaser and had an obviously deranged Vulcan by my side may have had something to do with their decision. We stopped in the entrance alcove.

"Perhaps now would be a good opportunity to assemble your possessions, Jim."

"By the void, Spock, you’re a stubborn man!"

"Yes." A nod of agreement. "Shall I accompany you?"

Ephram’s voice rang out loudly. "Kirk, you’re fired!"

Well, that was that. "Wait outside, and take this." I thrust the phaser into his hand. "In case they change their minds."

"No."

"Dammit, Spock—" Might as well argue with the wall. "I’ll make it quick." I started up the stairs.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Change your clothing. What you are wearing no longer fits."

I laid the gold outfit on the bed, put on a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt, tucked my money into the pocket, threw the rest of my stuff into a carry-all, and a minute later was back downstairs. The miner was still on the floor but breathing easier. Everyone ignored him. Just business as usual at Ephram’s place.

Out on the sidewalk I got my second surprise of the evening. My aircar was parked at the curb, Spock sitting in the driver’s seat.

I shoved the phaser into a pocket, threw my stuff on the rear seat, opened the door and slid inside. "What…? How did you…? I can’t believe you got it running."

"Do you wish to drive?"

"No…no, you’re doing just fine."

He pushed the ignition button. Nothing happened.

"Wait a minute." I got out of the car, walked around to his side and kicked the micro-ancillary drive. It started right up. When I got back in the car, one brow was already lost in the black bangs.

"Is this part of the normal operating procedure?"

"For this heap it is."

"I see. I wish I had known this. I had selected the aircar as the most expeditious means of transport available, yet it stopped twice on the way to town causing lengthy delays."

I fought to keep my hands at my sides to keep from crushing him to me. "You’ve got bearing grease on your left cheek."

He wiped the smudge away. I looked out the window as he put her nose up and we left ShiKahr behind.

After a long time I spoke into the darkness. "I’m sorry you had to see that. I never wanted you to know."

"Yes, I am aware you did not. But Jim, Vulcans are touch-telepaths." A quick, anxious look at my face. "It is usually an automatic reaction to raise one’s shields when in proximity to another, but…."

"But?"

"I…. When we kissed at the pond…. When you brought my hand to your face…." A deep breath. "I must beg forgiveness, Jim. I wished to meld minds with you. My mental shields fell in preparation for the joining, and I was unable to raise them quickly enough."

"You knew then? You knew and still came after me?"

He landed the aircar by the barn, shut off the engine, sat still, hands folded into a tight knot in his lap, face unreadable in the shadows.

"Nothing's changed, you know. I still don’t have enough money to pay for my ship’s repairs. I can’t stay here, Spock."

"You will not prostitute yourself again." Angry. Fierce.

"No. No, I won’t. And now what happens?"

"I…I do not understand."

"Now that you’ve saved me from the proverbial ‘fate worse than death’."

"You believe I have made a moral judgment."

"Well, haven’t you?"

"Jim, the only judgment I have made is that I seem to have…fallen in love with you. The thought of you in another’s arms is quite simply…intolerable."

"Oh." His bowed head never moved. "Something else is bothering you. What is it?"

"You, however, may wish to reconsider the feasibility of a personal relationship between us."

"And why would I do that?" _Yes, give me a reason_.

"I came very close to taking a life. I would not have thought myself capable of such an act."

Roughly I grabbed his shoulders, turned the slumped body so he had to look at me. "Don’t you understand? I couldn’t have prevented you from killing him. You were the one who stopped yourself in time."

I released him. _For me_. You _did that for me_. _I’m no good for you_. _Can’t you see that?_ There’s another old Earth saying you might want to remember."

"And that is?"

"Nobody’s perfect."

"I shall endeavor to keep that in mind."

_But some of us are more perfect than others_. I’d tried. Gods knew I tried, but I wasn’t strong enough to walk away from him twice. Not in one day. Maybe not in one lifetime. "That offer you made this morning. Is it still open?"

His eyes searched my face, and without another word he got out of the aircar, strode to the barn door, opened it and entered. I removed the phaser from my pocket, placed it in the carry-all. It was not the weapon I would wield tonight. I followed, closing the door and the rest of the universe outside.

It was as dark inside as it was outside except for the slanting rays of T’Kuht’s reflected light that managed to sneak through the gaps in the roof, and it was under one of these that Spock stopped, unaware, and turned to face me. I watched from the shadows as he first removed his sandals, then moved to the shoulder of the robe, unfastened it, let it drop. The dark folds fell away, smooth copper-burnished skin emerging into the light, an ancient god risen from the waves. Innocent. Unaroused. His eyes locked with mine as both hands lifted the pendant from his neck. Without looking he draped it over a protruding nail in one of the upright beams and returned his hands to his sides.

I wanted so to tell him how beautiful he was, but the words lodged in my throat until it ached, and silence was the only space large enough to hold what I was feeling without crushing it, without bruising the heart of it.

"Do I not please you?"

My hands suddenly felt like blunt instruments. I nodded and forced out the words, the ones he needed to hear, the ones I needed to say. "You have to know something before we begin. I want you, but it’s not just for tonight. I want you with me always. I want to show you my stars and make love to you in the dawn on a thousand worlds. I want you to make love to me in the moon glow of a thousand more. I want to go to sleep with you curled next to me and wake with your breath hot on my neck. I don’t want anyone else to see you like this. Ever. But mostly…mostly, I just want to love you, and have you love me."

One hand rose, reached from the light toward the darkness, opened. "Will you share your colors with me?"

I’d seen him by starlight, dawn’s light, reflected light. I’d once thought of him as a dark angel. Nothing was farther from the truth, for where he was the darkness receded, giving way, a vanquished warrior. Spock, himself, _was_ the light.

I placed my hand in his and left the shadows behind.

Raising my free hand, I brushed a thumb over thin lips. Pliant to my touch, they opened eagerly, the sweet hot breath a whispered promise of what lay within. Slowly his head bent to mine, our foreheads brushing in a first caress. I placed my hands on both sides of his face, devouring the trust I found there. Watched as his eyes closed. Felt him tremble against me. Slid my fingers up into the silken strands and tilted his head and kissed him. Past the slick hardness of teeth, past the rough texture of pointed tongue, he was all smoothness, heated cream and a taste of honey.

Desire flooded me in sharp staccato bursts of sensation, kicked at my belly, flared in my crotch until I groaned and eased us apart before temptation forced me to take more than he was ready to give.

Strong hands gripped my arms keeping me close, and we slid together to our knees. I pressed him back to lie on the robe while I quickly rose and removed my clothing.

For just a moment more I looked down at the body spread before me. His skin was a pale shimmer, luminescence trapped between black hair at crown and groin. "I'm sorry we don’t have a better bed. I’m sorry we don’t have Argellian beesilk sheets to rest on and Benecian incense instead of the smell of fellets to perfume the air."

He grasped my hand. "You are here. We are together," he said and drew me down to my knees. "Nothing else matters."

I wished I could have gone to him unjaded by experiences with so many others. I wished I could have gone to him clean as a new spring morning. His eyes clouded, reading my uncertainty, and I smiled into them. If I couldn’t change the past, at least I could mold the present. I would use every scrap of experience I had, every touch that would rouse and delight, everything learned from more sexual partners than I could remember. To that I would add the love I had for him and hoped it would be enough.

His arms came around my back as I leaned over, and kissed him again, then broke away to trail a line of kisses down to square, strong chin and up across a sculpted cheek to the elegant curve of ear. A sweep of tongue on the sensitive place behind brought a soft sigh. A heated breath inside elicited a moan. A quick lick on the lobe rewarded me with a quiver, and when I plunged my tongue down into the cavity, he gasped. A glance at his face revealed eyes unfocused, wide in wonder and dawning arousal.

His hands began small circling motions as I slipped down to the slender column of neck to nip, to suck. Skin, heated under my kisses, released his scent. Alien. Exotic. Unbearably exciting. My cock slammed up hard against my belly. I drew in a deep breath and knew I would carry the smell of him to my grave.

The small nubs on his chest were dark green against the lighter skin around them. As I took first one and then the other into my mouth, he bucked beneath me, large hands roamed restlessly over my back, down my sides. My own nipples tightened in response, aching for his touch.

Abruptly, with a quick cat-like motion that took my breath away, he rolled us over so that he was sitting astride me. Hair, loose and wild, tumbled down, a cascade of blackness surrounding us, shutting out the night. Instantly his hands were on my chest, rubbing in gentle strokes and then harder. Eyes, innocent no longer, hot as flame, watching me, gauging my response, reading what I wanted through our physical contact as easily as if I had spoken the words.

Gently I took his hands away. "No. I wish this could be the first time for both of us, but let me at least give you my experience. Let me make this good for you."

"Jim…." A long swallow rippled his throat, the flaring intensity in his eyes faltered.

"Shh, Spock. It’s all right." I eased him back to where we had been, kissed the stern lips before he could respond. "Let me love you."

Obediently the tapered fingers fell away, returned to his sides to clench and unclench in the folds of the robe.

I gave a last lick to the taut nipples, left them glistening with moisture, and moved on, firmly pushing away my own arousal, surprised at how easy it was. All the gods knew I wanted him. Had wanted him from the first moment I’d seen him. Had dreamed of little else than plunging my cock into the tight, wet haven of his welcoming ass. Yet now, how little my own desire mattered.

Was I the same person that only a week ago thought all bodies looked alike in the dark? Yet now those nervous clutching fingers brought a lump to my throat, his perfect navel roused such tenderness I found it hard to breathe, and the vulnerability of his half-erect penis rising slowly from its nest of softly curling black hair made me want to weep.

I reached for him then, amazed to see my hands tremble. His shaft rose hot and hard within my grasp, crown flaring, begging for my touch, a plea and a promise I couldn’t help but answer. As I took him into my mouth he began to twist beneath me, and looking up I found his face contorted, head thrown back, mouth open, eyes slit half-shut, innocence forever banished from the dark depths replaced by a heated passion I both mourned and gloried in.

His balls fit so sweetly into the palm of one hand, and I sent the other to sweep beyond, to search out the secret opening. Carefully I entered, the tissues moist and clinging, urging me on.

Spock’s body surged like the tide between my hands.

Suddenly fingers twined in my hair, forcing my head up. "Now," the word halfway between a sigh and a whimper, "Enter me."

I reared up over him and brushed the straggled strands of hair away from his face, smoothed the tight lines between his eyes, "No, love, no. Not like this. We don’t have anything to make the way easier for you. There’ll be time for that." I started to bend to take the thick shaft back in my mouth.

Abruptly hot hands covered my ass stopping me, pressing us close. He spread his legs wide, his body thrusting up against mine. "You will not harm me, Jim, I need you…. Please, now. I wish us to be together."

His hands…on my ass. So hot on my ass…. Thumbs just beyond the crack…. I don’t know where I found the strength to take one hand, to move it down to my cock. _Gods, Spock!_ "All right"— _Oh, gods_ —"but there are…other ways we can be…together, without—"

He tossed his head wildly from side to side, lifted off my finger and pushed, maneuvered my body with ridiculous ease, and then I was there, my cock poised at his opening. Arrow and target. _And which was I?_

"Jim…please. Oh, please. The colors…. I need your colors. All of them."

If there had been a reason for refusing, I had forgotten what it was. Hands clutched my ass, and he impaled himself on my cock at the same moment I thrust forward, and all the shoulds and all the shouldn’ts fell away until only the need remained.

Heated tunnel giving way…. Yielding before me…. Drawing me in…. Drawing me up…. Thrusting harder. Faster. Wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. Reared up over him. _Watch me claim_ you. _Let me see it in your eyes the exact moment I make you mine_. Devoured his eyes. Piercing hot. Daggers to my soul. _But there was mor_ e. Pounding…pounding into the tender flesh. _More we both could_ feel. _More we both needed to feel_ ….

"More…. Everything…." I grasped his hand, raised it. He froze, suspended a millimeter from my face. Close enough for me to feel his heat. Close enough for him to feel my need. So very close.

"Jim…. We…are joined. I should…not…."

For the very first time in my life, I begged.

"Spock…. Please. Gods, oh, please. I need…. I n-need…."

"What do you need, Jim?"

So easy to see the answer. So easy to read now that it was revealed in my lover’s light.

_"You, Spock! I need you!"_

Then Spock gave me what I needed.

*****

_Mist, a curling gray mist swirling lazily, hazing vision, obscuring sight_. _A moment later the smell of smoke penetrated the still air_. _At last the fog dissipated slightly, and distant objects became discernible_. _Weak light_. _Smoke-scorched ground_. _In the distance, paths that twisted around about themselves in crazy patchwork patterns, leading nowhere_. _Some ended in smoldering half-destroyed bridges_. _Others in walls, huge and thick, malignant growths sprung from dead soil, blocking the light._

_In the distance, Starfleet Academy was burning_.

_A madman’s landscape of broken dreams and what might have been_.

_Down at my feet was the last slim patch of green, a thin sliver of life made more vivid by being the only color in the gray desolation_. _A fragile barrier, that even as I watched, slowly, ever so slowly, began to darken at its edges to the same ashen hue as the rest_.

_Desperately I turned my back to the past, spun in the fertile but transitory ground of the present, faced the future_.

_I was standing naked on one bank of a river_. _The water held all the colors of the rainbow but muted to dingy and faded hues, unmoving, caught in the stasis of weak light_.

_On the opposite bank the same vista as the one behind me stretched on and on as far as the eye could see_. _Barren and sterile and devoid of life_.

_No! Not the same!_ _Gray twisting mist that resolved itself into minute granules of sand_. _A tarmesh_. _Fiercely the sand blew, increasing in intensity, screaming its power, obscuring the light, scorching the ground with its hot breath_.

_Abruptly, one patch of whirling sand began to glow with a bright white light then parted to reveal the tall lean figure of a naked male_. _Long black hair whipped around the body, punished the face, alternately hiding and revealing strong features_. _The storm swirled round, reluctant to release him, but he moved forward towards me, bringing the light with him, until we stood face to face across the river_. _Down at his feet lay a last untouched band of deep red soil_.

_How many times had I stood here like this? How many times had he? I didn’t know the answer, but that we had been here innumerable times before, and would be here again times beyond counting, each cell in my body knew with unshakable certainty_.

_We moved to each other down our respective banks and into the water, the force drawing us on as eternal as the universe, as new as a bright spring morning_.

_In the middle of the river we met_. _I entered into the circle of his arms, surrounded his body with my own_. _Darkness fled as the water rose urging us together, seaming us together, until the place where my body ended and his began existed only in memory_. _Higher the water rose, swirling, babbling with joy, but it was his light I bathed in, his light that washed me clean_. _Our souls coming together, touching, fusing, a brilliantly crystalline structure forming_. _Still higher yet again the river rose, until in this prism of our love the water erupted into an orgasm of all the colors that ever were_.

_Above us the word that meant what we were to each other sang softly on the breeze_.

_The companion of my soul turned up his face to the colors_ … _and laughed_.

*****

Hard floor. Dim light. Limbs entwined. One hand slipping gently from my face. Our seed drying between us. I raised my eyes to seek out Spock’s. Half-lidded, drowsy, sated, they held the look of a ship, weathered and storm-tossed no more, come safely home to anchor.

I sent one finger down to slowly trace the line where our bodies touched. My body hot. His hotter still. Stopped at the quick rhythmic pulsing in his side.

"Your heart?"

"Mine no longer," he said. "Yours. For now. For always. Forever."

I placed his hand back on the side of my face where it belonged, wrapped arms tightly around him and took his light with me into sleep.

*****

The sound of a creaking barn door woke us. Two figures silhouetted black against the opening. Sarek and Stonn. The soft sounds of their conversation abruptly lapsed into shocked silence. For a moment the four of us just looked at each other. As Spock’s hand fell away from my face, Sarek paled and slumped slightly against the wall. Stonn stiffened. I saw the thought revealed in his eyes even as it formed. _Finally_. _Finally the halfling bastard’s impurity shown for all the world to see_. The smallest of smiles turned up the comers of his mouth, lit his face with something very close to jubilation, and without a word he spun on his heel and left.

I grabbed for my pants, wriggled into them, turned to Spock expecting him to be doing the same with his robe. He wasn’t. Eyes riveted on Sarek, he slowly rose from our makeshift bed, strands of revna peeking through the disheveled black hair, looking very much like a man who had spent the night exactly as he had spent the night…curled with his lover on the dusty floor of a barn. Yet there was no embarrassment, no shame about him. Beautiful and so dignified in his nudity, he walked to Sarek’s side.

"Father?"

But Sarek didn’t answer, only turned from his son to press himself further against the wall. Spock hesitated a moment, then straightened and strode with a sure step past the opened door and towards the house, completely missing the look of utter devastation that crumpled his father’s face.

I put on my boots, shrugged into my shirt and buttoned it. I wanted to say something to the old man but what could I say? That I was sorry? Sorry that I’d just spent the night loving and being loved? Sorry that I’d spent the night being reborn? Damned if I would!

Still, what I saw on his face required some response. "Sarek…."

He pulled himself together, looked up, but I’m not sure the gray eyes even saw me. As if he had aged ten years in the space of a few minutes, the old man shuffled past me without a word and headed for the house.

I walked back to the place where my love and I had lain. Picked up his robe and sandals from the floor. I lingered over the pendant, but finally took that as well. Odd how harmless it looked nestled in the palm of my hand now that it was no longer a threat.

I thought maybe Spock and Sarek needed some time alone to talk so I put Spock’s things by the back door and walked past the side of the house and up the rise. The morning had already lost its dawn coolness; the air motionless and thick and absolutely silent. I stood there at the grave and wondered about the woman who had been Spock’s mother. I thought about the things she had given up in the name of love—her home on Earth, her family, finally even her life—to live among a people who barely tolerated her. I thought back to the night I had just spent with her son. I thought about how the universe can change in the space of a day.

From somewhere the sound of a gong being struck repeatedly broke the stillness. It lasted for a minute or so then stopped and I listened until the last echoes reverberated in the air.

"I understand now, Amanda," I told her. "The love was worth it. I know it wasn’t easy for either you or Spock, but I swear to you I’ll make him happy."

There weren’t any flowers to pick, but I gathered some wind-blown domo leaves, tied a dried stem around them and placed them in front of her marker.

As I walked to the house, I heard the distant rumbling of thunder. A cloud skimmed momentarily across the suns, and I stopped in amazement to watch. There hadn’t been so much as a drizzle in all the time I’d spent on Vulcan. _Good. A thunderstorm_. _A real_ _old-fashioned thunderstorm_. _Just the thing to break the heat, release the tension in the air_. I’d always loved them as a kid. While other children cowered under their beds, I’d have to be restrained from running out into them. I’d loved their power. Their freedom.

I picked up Spock’s things and entered the house. Everything was quiet. Suddenly the hair rose on the back of my neck. It must have been the electricity in the air. Or maybe it was Spock. Spock, standing at the top of the stairs. Spock, with his hair still unbound but clean and combed. Spock, resplendent in a black robe… _with silver at the neck and wrists and three_ _silver runes down the front_. _Spock, dressed like Storet on the day of his bonding._

Our eyes locked as he descended, as he stopped a half meter away; as he gently took the pendant from my hand. Lifting the hair away, he draped it over his head. Let it fall back into place as the pendant settled into the hollow of his throat.

_Gods, no_. "You're going to _her,_ aren’t you? You’re going to be bonded."

From outside came the sound of a kova and carriage slowing, stopping. Footsteps at the door.

"Jim…."

One hand rose to my hair. Removed a stalk of revna. Slowly slid down my cheek and away. He stared down at the stalk for a moment, oddly absorbed, moving slender fingers over it, stroking it as if it were the most fragile of flowers. Then he straightened and looked at me, determination set in every line of his face.

"No, I am not. It will take far too long to explain. Wait here for me. When I return we will leave."

"But, where are you going?"

He walked past me and opened the door. Two men stood there. Both were identically dressed in long black cloaks that fell to the ground, features hidden in the recesses of their hoods. Both wore some kind of mask that came to a sharp point and covered the lower parts of their faces from nose to chin. And both carried what could only be weapons, long thick shafts with a blunt head at one end and a curved, wickedly-sharp blade at the other.

Automatically I reached for the phaser at my back. The phaser that was still in the carry-all on the rear seat of the aircar.

"Do not be concerned. They will not harm me. Wait here."

He walked to the door, hesitated, turned back. "I love you, Jim."

"Spock, wait!"

Without acknowledging their presence be passed between the men, went down the steps and got into the carriage. The others followed, one man sliding in to sit on either side. A tap of the reins on the kova’s back, and the carriage started away.

I ran outside after them. "Spock!"

There on the ground lay the discarded stalk of revna.

It was time for some answers, and I knew just where to get them. I found Sarek in the living room seated on a sofa, hunched over an antique two-dimensional photograph of a woman. She was not beautiful in the conventional sense of the word, yet there was something so arresting about her. This woman would have drawn the eye wherever she was. Perhaps it was the aura of gentleness that surrounded her, or maybe it was the spirit that flashed from her eyes. Not brown as I had suspected, but gray like Sarek’s, only of a lighter hue, and reflecting a strange combination of both happiness and the smallest hint of sorrow.

I laid Spock’s things down on one end of the couch and stood over him. "Where has Spock gone, Sarek?"

"She had such a difficult time carrying Spock to term. A child of two worlds, two races. He made her so ill. I begged her to reconsider, told her we must abort the fetus, but she dearly wanted a child. Wanted to give me a child. I almost lost her several times."

"Sarek…."

"She could be stubborn. So stubborn."

"Like Spock."

"Yes. I found it difficult to deny her anything she wished."

He rose and placed the picture on the mantle near the fireshrine. "She nearly died giving him life, and the healers said there would be no more children after Spock’s birth."

"Sarek, I’m sorry about Amanda, but…."

"I have kept this picture hidden since her death. It was too painful to see her face day after day, but no matter, not an hour passes that I do not think of her."

"Sarek, where is Spock?"

He looked directly at me for the first time since I had entered the room. "You have destroyed my son. My son, for whom she would have sacrificed her life."

"Destroyed. You keep saying that. Destroyed how, old man?"

"V’nish’kar’neh."

I was trying to hold on to my temper, but he wasn’t making it easy for me. "That’s the second time you’ve said that word, and now you’re going to tell me what it means."

"The Shunning."

"Your people would ostracize Spock? Because we’re both male? Because we made love together? Because he’s no longer virgin? Because of some outmoded, antiquated, distorted morality that people on every civilized planet have long since put behind them?"

"You do not under—"

"Last night was the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me, Sarek, and I’ll be cursed to seventh hell before I let anyone demean either of us for it. He gave me back my life, made me whole." I took a deep breath. "Your son loves me."

"Yes, I know. And for that he will be punished."

At that I did lay my hands on his arms. "If they hurt—"

"He will not be harmed physically."

"Then, how—?"

"What is the one unforgivable sin on your world, James Kirk? What is the one thing a man can do that will cause others to turn away, to curse his name?"

"What does that have to do with—?"

"Answer me!"

"Abuse a child, but he’s hardly that. Let me tell you something, Sarek, I didn’t exactly rape him. He was more than willing."

"Not your crime, James Kirk. His. His crime, for which he must be punished, though you led him into it."

"What are you talking about? I’m not a child."

"In this you are. Everyone knows Humans are mind-blind. He reached into your mind. Raped your mind. Took what he needed. I saw his hand on your face!"

My hands fell away. "No! It wasn’t like that! I gave him…would give him anything he asked for."

"You cannot share a bond without the mind link. That is the one thing that you as a Human are incapable of giving him, and the one thing that he as a Vulcan must have to make his life complete."

I walked to the window. Stood there with my back to the old man looking out at the glowering sky. "What will they do to him?"

"He will no longer have a home here."

"There are other people on Vulcan. Other cities."

"There is no clan on Vulcan that will accept him. No place where he will be welcome. No sanctuary."

"How will they know? Do you broadcast it somehow?"

"There is no need. They will know."

"Doesn’t matter anyway. He’ll be with me. You told me Spock was needed here. ‘The needs of the many,’ you said. Well, it looks as if ‘the many’ don’t need him any more, but I do. I’ll make it up to him."

"And when you turn away? When you finally tire of him?"

I whirled. "I won't."

"You will. If not in the immediate future, then in the heat of pon f—" He fell silent.

"Tell me."

"We do not speak of it even among ourselves."

"But you’ll tell me. I have the right to know, Sarek."

"Perhaps you do. Although Vulcan males are physically capable of mating at any time, every seven years they must, or die. It is a…violent time. A time of insanity."

"That’s when they bond like Storet and T’Van, isn’t it? I thought he was ill."

"Yes. What you saw was the beginning of the fever. That time has not yet come to Spock, but it will."

"I would be honored to serve his need."

"Will you?" One silver brow rose high. "Will you, James Kirk? We call it the pon farr, the Time of Mating, but it would be more accurate to call it the Time of Burning. Will you still be honored when he ravishes your body day after day in his madness? And your body not designed for it as is a woman’s. Will you still be honored in your blood and your pain? Will you be honored when he searches your mind for the bond that will not be there? That cannot be there? Or will you turn away, leaving him banished, and alone, and far from his people, leaving him to die like a crazed animal?"

"Did Amanda turn from you?"

He lowered his gaze then. "No, but you would not condone our solution."

"Try me."

Heavily he sank to the sofa, raised his eyes but not to me. To Amanda’s face. "Without the bond we had neither a fully Vulcan marriage nor a completely Human one."

He was silent for several seconds, and when he spoke again his voice was dull and flat and so empty.

"When my time came upon me, the Elders of the Council arranged for another to serve my need. A Vulcan woman. They did not recognize our Human marriage, and thought that in the heat of the fever I would bond with her. Amanda would not hear of it. A compromise was reached. She…."

"Go on."

"The Council decreed that I was to be…restrained. Do you understand? My hands, my feet were tied to the bed so that I…I could not rape her mind. Two men remained with us at all times in the event I broke free.

"They offered her a teslav…a long cloak so that she would not have to bare herself to them, so that she could service me beneath it and they would not see. She refused to wear it. She carne to me naked. Mounted me while I used her to slake my body’s need. While I ranted and cursed her in my madness for denying me the bond she could not give. And all the while her tears fell cold as ice on my stomach."

"Sarek…."

"And that is the manner in which Spock was conceived. All this she did for me, and when she died I could not even take her katra…her spirit. She was truly lost to me." Finally he looked up. "She would never discuss that time. Amanda was the most modest of women, James Kirk. To this day I do not understand why she allowed them to see her like that."

The low rumble of thunder echoed in the air. Distant but getting closer.

"Don’t you, Sarek? I do. She did it for the same reason I would have. For the same reason I will never turn from your son."

"I do not understand."

"No, I know you don’t. Did you know shame has a color? It’s black. The absence, or rather the absorption of all light. But where love is, there can be no darkness. I love Spock, Sarek. As Amanda loved you, I love him."

He stared at me for a moment, and finally I turned back to the window, rested my arm on the sash, watched the occasional flares of lightning flick from cloud to cloud. Except for the thunder, the room was silent.

After a long time he walked to my side, laid a hand on my shoulder. _Jim, Vulcans_ are _touch-telepaths_. "Will you allow me to call you ‘James’?"

I met his eyes with my own. "I’d like that, Sarek."

He nodded slowly, and together we watched the storm approach.

"The V’nish…."

"V’nish’kar’neh."

"The V’nish'kar’neh. It happened to Sybok, too, didn’t it?"

"Yes. For different reasons both my sons found it impossible to follow the path of Surak. I will see neither one again."

_So many losses, and I had just given him another_. "You know you were right before. "This whole thing is _my_ fault. I begged him for the meld. It’s because of me Spock’s burned all his bridges behind him. Uh, that means…."

"I _was_ able to comprehend the meaning of the idiom, James."

"Yes, of course you were." _Bridges_. Why _did that sound such a responsive chord?_ I turned to Sarek, gripped his arms. "Spock told me there are no rivers on Vulcan. Is that right?"

"Yes." He tilted his head, puzzled.

"The river. In our meld. I _know_ hesaw that in my mind. He _had_ to have seen it!"

"James, you are not making any sense."

"Don’t you see, Sarek? The river. It was an Earth river. How would he know what one looks like if he had never seen one before? Even in holos— Even if Amanda described one— The look of the banks, the stones in the water— The very _feel_ of it. I had to have transmitted that to him. If I can do that—"

The old man was shaking his head sadly. "No, James. I know you wish to prove you could be a full participant in a meld, and more importantly that you are capable of a bonding link, but it is impossible. You are overlooking the fact that to Spock, the child of a desert world, water would be among the most alluring of images for him to take from your mind. You were merely a passive observer."

"But, we shared. I know we did. The light. The colors. The prism when our souls touched." I shook my head. "No, Sarek, he gave me the light, but _I_ was the one who gave him the colors. I _gave_ them, Sarek, he didn’t _take_ them."

"James, it is just not possible."

"Did you ever try to meld with Amanda?"

"James…."

" _Did_ you?"

"No. She wished to try. I…I would not permit it."

I released him, stepped back. "You were wrong, and you’re wrong now. I think Spock and I did more than meld our minds together. I think we’re bonded, and somehow I’m going to prove it." I headed for the door.

"Wait. You do realize if there is the most remote chance of altering the Council’s decision Spock might choose to remain here? You would do this when all you need do is nothing, and Spock would have no other option but to accompany you?"

"It’s Spock’s choice. It always has been. I’m just going to make sure he has the freedom to make it. You see, I’m not willing for him to deny the part that is Vulcan any more than I was willing to see him deny the part that is Human."

"And what will you do if he does stay here?"

_Oh, gods_ … _when the light shuts off all colors fade to gray._ "I’ve taken some wrong turns in my life, Sarek, and I’m finally going to stop running. With or without Spock at my side, I’m going to go back and try to take the right ones, but I don’t think I’m going to have to do that alone. Spock and I belong together. Finding each other in all of time and space was the miracle. Compared to that what comes next is…simple." I forced out a grin. "Now all I have to do is convince a whole planet."

"In that case, James," one silver brow rose, "I shall accompany you. I believe that will—What is the expression?—even the odds considerably."

It was too much to hope for that the aircar would start on the first try, and while Sarek eased himself gingerly inside, I gave the micro-ancillary drive my best shot and a Klingon curse or two. It rumbled and coughed its way to life. Sarek was staring straight ahead when I got back inside and didn’t look at me, but the brow stayed put.

We headed in the direction of the coming storm, the air turbulence getting worse the closer we got. I set us down just outside the ring of standing stones. They looked even more ominous against the darkening sky than they had in bright daylight, silently bearing their witness to ancient ways, the rough hewn stones impervious to the mere wishes of mortals.

I briefly considered the phaser in the carry-all, but if—no, _when—_ those stones fell today, they would have to fall on my lover’s terms. We ran to the ring, pushed our way inside. More than a hundred people filled the space, but Spock stood alone on the raised platform by the fire pit. Several men and women dressed in ceremonial silver robes, T’Pau at their center, were arrayed at the bottom of the steps facing him.

Instantly he stiffened. Over the intervening dark heads of his clan, his eyes found mine…and locked. "Spock!" I started to go to him only to find the way barred by a raised sharply-curved blade and the masked guard who hefted it. .

A streak of lightning lit the sky above casting the scene in a brief surrealistic glow, illuminated surprised faces, flared in the black of T’Pau’s eyes as she whirled. The thunder that followed echoed back and forth between the stones.

T’Pau maintained her piercing stare for a moment longer then turned back. In a voice that challenged the thunder for authority she called for T’Pring.

The young woman gracefully ascended the steps, her head bowed with humility and regret. I didn’t believe the pose for a second. She stood in front of Spock, raised her hand to his throat and broke the chain of his pendant with one tug. Did the same with her own. Placed them down on the platform, and with the heel of her sandal crushed them both, the sound loud as the thunder in the silence. Final. Irreversible.

As T’Pring returned to her place next to Stonn in the crowd, T’Pau climbed the steps and circled Spock to stand behind. "Kneel," she ordered.

"I will not." Bodies shifted. Robes rustled. A soft murmuring broke out, but Spock’s voice rose clearly enough for everyone to hear, though the blazing heat of his eyes told me the words were for me alone. "That would indicate shame. There can be no shame in loving what is worthy of love, and I will show none."

Out of the crowd two unarmed guards stepped quickly to T’Pau’s side, waiting for her signal and at the sharp nod grabbed Spock’s arms, pulled them wide and forced him to his knees.

From the folds of the robe T’Pau took a long thin knife, raised it high.

_Gods, NO!_ I feinted to the right, ducked left and was under the guard’s arm. Managed two steps before he caught me, the blade poised below my chin, held me easily across the chest while I struggled.

With one hand T’Pau gathered the long hair I so loved, slashed downward and a moment later the dark strands lay scattered on the platform, leaving him somehow more naked than if they had stripped the clothing from his body. The Vulcan mark of Cain by which his transgression would be known.

The guards brought Spock to his feet, and released him. T’Pau moved to stand facing him once again. A slight shudder raced through the frail body before she straightened and placed her hand on the topmost rune of Spock’s robe.

"Bak’a yta Tsaichrani. Thee art no longer of this vorld." She ripped the rune away, dropped it to the platform. "Bak’a yta Tsaichrani" a hundred voices responded.

I fought against the arm holding me but it was no use, and still Spock’s eyes clung to mine.

T’Pau’s hand fell to the second rune. "Bak’a yta Xtmprsqzntwlfd. Thee art no longer of this clan." The second rune followed the first.

"Bak’a yta Xtmprsqzntwlfd," the crowd echoed.

T’Pau’s hand landed on the last symbol. The one I recognized. The one that said Spock’s name.

"Bak’a yta S’p—"

"KROYKAH!" I shouted.

T’Pau’s hand froze. Slowly she turned.

"I am the injured party. I demand the right to be heard."

My heart thudded painfully in my chest, resounded in my ears while I waited for her answer. A regal nod, and the restraining arm fell away.

I headed up the aisle that opened before me, Sarek’s comforting presence at my shoulder, while I searched for the words that would make a difference…and couldn’t find them. I stood there at the bottom of the steps and watched the dearly beloved features of the man who would throw away everything he had known, everything that had meaning in his life… _for me_. Then I did the only thing I could. I walked up the steps and held out two fingers of my right hand. A heartbeat later his fingers met mine.

The indrawn breaths from so many people were audible, T’Pau’s among them. She recovered quickly enough, the crow-black eyes narrowing with fury. "Thee blasphemes, James Kirk, or perhaps thee does not know this gesture is used only between those who art—"

"—Bonded. Yes, I know, T’Pau, and yes, we are."

"Impossible!"

"Very possible, and I’ll prove it. Meld with me."

Spock’s fingers fell away. "Jim, no! To join with one whose mind is not…compatible…. You do not know…. You must not endanger yourself."

I turned to him and saw the concern he hadn’t allowed for himself so plainly expressed for me.

"I’m willing to take the risk. It’s the only way." _You trusted me with your heart, your body_. _Trust me in this_.

"Allow him to attempt it, T’Pau," said Sarek.

"I should have known this breach of tradition is at thy instigation, Sarek. Thee has experience in disregarding the vays of Surak, in corruption by Humans." She turned her back to Sarek. "Thy presence is not required at Council during these proceedings. Thee may leave."

"You, of course, as head of Council can have me forcibly removed, Mother, but that is the only way I will go." T’Pau pivoted to glare at her son. "Not all Humans are corrupters of The Way. She-who-was-my-wife spoke the truth in both her words and her actions. James Kirk deserves the same opportunity."

"Thee would have me enter the mind of one that cannot respond? Of one that has already been wronged by the violation of his thoughts by your son?" She descended the steps dismissing us all, dismissing _me_. "I vill not. Selon, proceed with the V’nish’kar’neh."

" _I’d_ _let her do that to me before_. _Not again_. _Never again_. _However this turned out she had dismissed me for the last time_. I took two steps forward. "No! My t’hy’la wouldn’t do that!"

T'Pau whirled, silver robe flashing in the meager light. "S’poch told thee that vord!"

A sudden warmth against my back as Spock moved close. "You’re right, T'Pau. He did tell me that word, but not in speech. I heard it in a meld. In a meld, T’Pau. _I_ took it from _his_ mind."

"Not possible."

"Prove it."

A burst of lightning lit the sky, strobing her features as she climbed the steps, and thunder echoed as bony fingers landed on my face.

*****

_Mist_. _Curling gray_. _Smoke-filled_. _Hot, so hot against my skin_. _Scene of familiar desolation_. _A sense of overpowering urgency_. _Turning to find a blackened, twisted skeleton of a tree and perched upon it a huge crow_. _Black glossy feathers_. _Long talons gripping a branch_. _Sharp black eyes assessing each move_. _No answers in its piercing stare, only questions_. _It was not what I sought, not what fueled the urgency, and I dismissed it_.

_Ahead was a river;_ _the colors under its surface snared beneath a frozen sheet of ice_. _Light so dim I could hardly see_. _On the opposite bank, a tarmesh raged_.

_I waited, and did not know why_.

_But the word that should have sighed on the breeze was gone, and the urgency was growing, and finally I could wait no longer_. _I descended the bank and struck out across the river, the ice so cold it burned my bare feet_. _Whatever I needed to find, it was not here_. _I climbed the opposite bank and knew that what I searched for was hidden somehow in that raging storm_. _Anger rose that it should be so hidden from me_. _And fear as well that I would not find it_. _But that was where the answer was, and I plunged inside_.

_Within seconds I was lost, irretrievably lost, in a maelstrom of swirling wind and sand that attacked mouth and eyes and threatened to strip the flesh from my body_. _A searing heat that was so cold I shivered_. _A memory of light that faded even as I watched through narrowed lids_. _The crow hovered above, black body against black storm until all demarcation disappeared and only its glittering eyes were visible_.

_I put one foot in front of another and went on, because going back was not an option, because the question and the need were one_.

_Stumbling forward while the sand sucked at my feet pulling me down_. _Knowing I was going to drown in this gray sea of sand and strangely not minding except for the blackness_. _Calling for the light that denied itself to me_. _Rage at dying in the darkness in ignorance and unanswered question_.

_Still I went on_. _Couldn’t die yet_. _Not yet_. _Not before I’d found the light_.

… _The light_ ….

_The light that appeared far ahead_. _So far ahead_. _Growing brighter as I fought my way to it, the strength leaching from my body with each step, drawn out and away on the wind_. _But I had found what I was looking for_. _What I had always been looking for_. _And no one and nothing was going to keep me from it_.

_Finally there to see the source of the light was a glowing crystal prism_.

_I sank to my knees, wrapped my body around it to give it shelter from the storm, and I would have wept for joy but there was no longer a need for anything at all_.

_Suddenly the crow swooped down, cawing, talons plucking at my hands and face, trying to tear me from the light so I fought, striking over and over at the soft feathery body with failing arms while the tarmesh whirled around us, and the howling wind called my name_ ….

… _Called my name_ ….

*****

"JIM! Jim, hear me! Open your eyes!"

I obeyed. Across the platform were two men restraining a third one between them. It somehow didn’t seem right that they should have their hands on him like that because he was the one who had called my name and I started to walk forward but my legs were so weak and the world started to spin and strong arms caught me as the floor came up….

I opened my eyes to blackness and thought for the space of a heartbeat I had lost the light, but no…it was the texture of black cloth against my cheek. The silver rune that said his name told me whose arm enclosed me, whose hand was pressed against my face, whose fingers were entwined in my hair.

"Spock…"

"Shh, Jim. I am here. You are safe."

Reassuring words, but the body that held me was shaking.

I pulled away slightly so I could see his face. How…how long?"

"Twenty-three point seven seconds."

We were still on the platform but Spock was on his knees, and I seemed to be half-sprawled in his lap. "We should get up."

"To do that you will have to release my robe, Jim."

"Oh…right."

My knees were a little wobbly so Spock helped me to my feet. It was then that I saw T’Pau. She lay crumpled awkwardly on her side, face unnaturally pale, eyelids fluttering, surrounded by the other members of the Council. Just a frail old woman after all. "Did I do that?"

"Apparently so."

We went over to see if we could help. Abruptly a tall, heavy-set man rose from T’Pau’s side. The one T’Pau had called Selon. He planted himself firmly in our path.

"What can we do?"

"You have done enough. The V’nish’kar’neh is completed. Leave."

"But—"

"Leave!" Two armed guards appeared to flank him.

There was nothing left to do but turn and walk down the steps. Sarek waited there for us, falling into place on Spock’s other side. Each member of the clan we passed met our eyes, some with barely disguised pleasure like T’Pring and Stonn, some like Stavar and T’Lea with real sorrow, but then one by one, silently and irrevocably, each turned his back.

I was the one who had gambled and lost, but Spock was the one who had to pay the price. _Oh, my love, forgive me_. _You trusted me and I failed you_.

We were still only halfway to the gap between the stones when a reedy voice rasped out, "Kroykah!"

_T’Pau!_

She was struggling to stand, one hand pressed to her forehead, the other motioning us to return with an imperious gesture. She allowed the others to assist her to her feet then waved them away and met us alone at the edge of the platform.

She glared at me for several seconds then raised her head to look out at the assembled clan. "James Kirk speaks the truth. They share a bond."

In the absolute hush that followed she rubbed at her temple and leaned down. "S’poch, thy bondmate’s mind is…is…."

"Most dynamic. Yes, Grandmother, I know."

"Indeed."

Both turned to stare at me. "You were trying to help me in the meld, lead me out, weren’t you?"

I searched for the proper phrase. "I beg forgiveness."

"Tell me, James, among Humans art thee the exception or the rule?"

"I’m not sure I understand, T’Pau."

"I have known few Humans. Art the majority like thee and the vife of my son or art they like those that took her life?"

"I think you will discover what I have, T’Pau. There are people of good will everywhere."

She straightened to her full height and inclined her head just slightly. Then she walked to where the discarded runes lay on the platform. Started to bend. Selon moved to get them for her. "No," she said. "I removed them and I shall retrieve them." Painfully, she knelt and picked them up. Painfully she rose. No one dared to assist her. She returned and placed them in Spock’s hand. "I believe these belong to thee, Grandson."

He nodded.

"Thee may leave," she said regally. "I am about to convene a clan meeting. There is much to discuss. Logic determines the situation be re-evaluated in the…light of new knowledge. Perhaps it is time to re-establish relations vith ShiKahr. There is the matter of abandoned mining sites that needs to be addressed." She waved us away. "Thee need not attend."

This was one dismissal I didn’t mind at all.

Sarek, face serene but with eyes shining, walked out with us.

"Sarek?"

"Yes, T’Pau?"

"Thee knows more of Humans than any of us. Thee art needed here. There may be some mistaken impressions thee vill have to remedy." For the first time I saw the black eyes blink in hesitation. "Thee vill return?"

"Presently, Mother."

T’Pau lowered her gaze before her son.

When we were standing outside the ring I placed my hand on Spock’s arm. It had to be said. "You don’t have to come with me now that there are other…alternatives."

"Yes, I know." His gaze flicked to his father then settled on my face. "For the first time in my life because of you I am fully accepted here, and that is why I have the freedom to leave. Do you understand?"

"Yes." I closed my eyes in relief, opened them and permitted the smile I wouldn’t allow before.

"Do you…still wish me to accompany you?"

"I’ll want you with me all the days of my life."

He straightened, and I watched that look of peace return to my lover’s eyes. Then he turned to Sarek. "Father…."

"Live long and prosper, my son."

"Peace and long life, Father."

They crossed arms and touched briefly, but the look they shared spoke of far more than the simple gesture. Sarek turned and offered it to me. "Live long and prosper, my son."

I gratefully accepted. "Peace and long life, father-of-my-bondmate." I took a step back and added, "You could come with us, Sarek." I didn’t need to look at Spock to know he agreed.

"No, James, you have returned she-who-was-my-wife to me and I thank thee, but our people will need an ambassador to ShiKahr, and I believe I am the logical choice."

For a moment longer we stood there and listened to the quiet hum of voices from inside the ring of stones. Both Vulcans looked at each other and twin brows rose.

"It appears they are quite excited. Cooler heads must prevail. I will have much work to do here."

"Then I shall take my leave of you, Father."

The barest hint of uncertainty still remained in the gray eyes so I answered the question he couldn’t ask. "I’ll take care of him, Sarek."

Spock moved to my side. "We will take care of each other."

"Yes, of course. As it should be," Sarek replied, and I watched the uncertainty disappear.

We turned to go.

"You were mistaken, James. I do know about this ‘skinny dipping’. I have participated in it. And Spock? _I_ even did the ‘skinny’ part."

Spock’s brow shot so far up into his bangs I wasn’t sure it would ever come down.

It was only on the way back to the aircar that I noticed the storm had passed, its threat unfulfilled. The sky was bright with light and in the east just a hint of the colors of sunset.

And miracles of miracles the aircar started on the first try.

When we got back to the house Spock disappeared inside returning a few moments later with a small bag. He pressed credits into my hand. "A legacy from my mother, Jim. She said I would know what to do with it when the time came."

"That’s fantastic! There’s more than enough here to pay for the rest of the repairs." I took a look at the size of his bag. "But don’t you want to take anything else? Your telescope?"

"You will show me all the stars there are, will you not?" A deep breath. "And I shall fly among them."

The aircar quit ten miles shy of ShiKahr.

I started to get out when Spock laid a hand on my arm. "Allow me." The sight of my composed bondmate kicking the side of an aircar reduced me to giggles. He waited patiently for me to stop. I guess we had used up the store of miracles allotted to us for this day because the aircar wouldn’t start again, and we had to walk the rest of the way into town.

The next day I paid the last installment on the repairs and received my lock-out code in return. I also found out the _Enterprise_ had left orbit. It was all right. I would catch up with Bones another time. The universe, I’d discovered, could be a very small place.

I ushered Spock inside the ship and showed him around, reminded him that I still had commitments to fulfill on Rigel and Benecia.

"And then?"

"Earth. There’s a full review board I’m a little late for. Come with me?" I asked just so I could hear his answer one more time.

"Always. But, Jim, where do you keep the cows?"

"The…the cows? You didn’t think I actually—" His eyes flashed in his own particular interpretation of the giggles. "We’re really going to have to do something about your sense of humor."

I introduced him to the hook-up with the Federation Worlds’ Information Net and told him there was some last minute provisioning I had to take care of before we left. I don’t think he even knew I was gone.

We set course for Rigel with a slight detour so I could show him the K’lasta Nebula, and it was there, sitting in the captain’s chair, that I gave him the present I had picked up in ShiKahr. A triangular crystal prism hanging from a finely woven dilithium chain. I opened my shirt and showed the matching one I’d kept hidden until now.

Without a word he strode to the viewscreen, paused for a moment and calmly removed his clothes.

When he was naked he placed the prism around his neck and let me look at him. On the viewscreen behind his beloved body stars lit up the black of space. _So much better than my dream, for novas are stars in their death throes, and nebulas are where stars are born_."

"The bond works in both directions, Jim," Spock said as he walked to my side. As the stars stood witness he made love to me there on the bridge of our ship while his light shone through the prism and all my colors danced wildly around us.

Then Spock laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Prism was first published in Scattered Stars 8 in1996. I am most grateful to Robin for her support and belief in me, to Jenna Sinclair for her excellent editing skills, to Lyrastar for her amazing computer know-how, and to the movie Witness which was my inspiration.
> 
> I’ve made some very minor changes from the zine version.


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